Gilchrist answered him in one terse word.
“Mad,” he replied, pushing away the white dog, which sniffed innocently at the body.
A POINT OF ETHICS
He leaned forward across the flower-decked dinner-table and raised his glass.
“To many happy anniversaries, darling!”
The pretty woman he addressed raised her glass also. Gowned in a simple evening robe whose discreet décolletage revealed shoulders still youthfully rounded, she was the incarnation of that delicate refinement which lifts beauty into charm with one deft touch. The single dark rose at her breast was its present symbol. It was also, indubitably, the deliberate symbol of something more. The large, emotional eyes which smiled upon him were radiant with happiness.
“Many anniversaries, Jack!” she echoed, shaking her head slowly in emphasis, her gaze in his. “All as happy as this—all of us together!”
Both turned, as with a common thought, to the demure little five-year-old girl who watched them with grave eyes from her place at the dinner-table. She smiled at their smiles, confidently.