"No, Miss," answered Susan. "It's just a dreadful feeling that keeps coming over me."
"Then the sooner you put the dreadful feeling on one side, the better," I said unpleasantly. "I hardly call it complimentary to Lord Ruddington that you should mistake him for a man like that."
Susan began her new pout--the bride-elect pout that was never in Susan's world till last Thursday. It annoyed me.
"Why," I said, "if that's Lord Ruddington, all I can say is that poor Gibson is fit to be a duke or a prince beside him."
Susan was touched in a raw place. She pouted worse than ever. I couldn't help saying:
"One has only to look at his legs!"
"I was thinking, Miss," said the bride-elect, "that they was rather nice."
She actually turned her head, and had begun to take quite a deliberate peep at the rather nice legs, when I addressed her sharply.
"Susan," I said, "so long as you're with me, you'll be so good as to behave yourself properly. I'm surprised."
She recalled her wanton glance at once, and blushed suitably and sufficiently. Gibson is only partly right about Susan's head being turned. If it were turned more than a very, very little, she wouldn't be able to obey so fully and promptly and shamefacedly when I whistle her straying fancy back to heel.