"You will when we are married, dear," he said.
But Chris shook her head with much decision. "Oh, no! I couldn't possibly. You would disapprove far too much. As Aunt Philippa says, you would be 'pained beyond expression.'"
But Mordaunt only drew her nearer. "You—child!" he said.
She yielded, half-protesting. "Yes, but I'm not quite a baby. I think you ought to remember that. Shall we go back? I know Rupert is sniggering behind the curtain."
"I'll break his head if he is," said Mordaunt; but he let her go, as she evidently desired, and prepared to follow her in.
They met Rupert sauntering out "to pay his respects," as he termed it, though, if there were any luck going, he supposed that his future brother-in-law had secured it all.
"Thought you didn't believe in luck," observed Mordaunt.
"I believe in bad luck," returned Rupert pessimistically. "I only know the other sort by hearsay."
"Isn't he absurd?" laughed Chris. "He always talks like that. And there are crowds of people worse off than he is."
"Query," remarked her brother, with a shrug of the shoulders; but an instant later, aware of Mordaunt's look, he changed the subject.