And she did—or almost. Hugh let the children revel as they liked in the good things, and assured their anxious guardian that he had chosen the lunch expressly from the point of view of suitability for the delicate digestions of children. And he laid down the maxim that appetite was the safest guide in the world, and when it said “More” no one but a Bumble would say it nay.
He ate excellently himself; he uncorked the champagne, and insisted upon her joining him with it; the sparkling stuff filled all her veins with fire. She ate chicken and found that it was good—and very good. She ate of other delicacies with which he plied her plates and found all her system rejoiced. In very truth she had lately pushed her diet theory so far that she was in a state of semi-starvation. She laughed, she chatted gaily, she made as entertaining a companion for that little lunch at the foot of the Fall as a man need wish to have. Hugh stared at her in amaze once or twice; it was as if a white tightly-closed rosebud had suddenly blossomed into beautiful bloom.
[p264]
“Happiness,” said Hugh to himself, “that is all she needs, and the independence and responsibilities of a home of her own.”
The merry lunch progressed; the talk fell upon the author’s own books—and other books. Again Hugh was surprised—and delighted—at the lady’s discrimination and genuine culture. It was difficult to realize that any one who wrote so atrociously could think and speak so well.
“It’s like Kate’s bicycle,” he said to himself, “a single woman must break out somewhere. The probabilities are, if she had a home of her own, that she would never want to touch a pen again.”
Round and round the subject hovered his thoughts; this gentle, quiet companion for the autumn of his life—the thought was singularly attractive—infinitely more so than the thought of Dora or Bee that had always possessed also an element of distraction alarming to a man of staid habits.
He looked at her with new eyes.
She saw the look and drooped and flushed beneath it.
Then down came Kate, panting and puffing, but quite genial.
“A nice way to treat your guests, Sir,” she said, “do you know you have been away an hour? I don’t know what Dora and Bee can think of you.”