“I won’t leave you until I see you are quite happy and comfortable there, and if you don’t like the place and the people I won’t leave you there at all.”
Without giving her time for further objections, George brought her a comb, which she kissed because it was his and proceeded to pass through her short, thick hair in a very helpless and unaccustomed fashion; at last, coming to a decided knot, she stamped her foot and, leaving the comb in her hair, presented her head to George, who placed her again in the armchair and reverently and laboriously set to work on the soft curly tangle. He grew very hot over the occupation, which was new to him, and began to understand why hairdressers are generally of the abler sex. By the time he had reduced the pretty wavy hair to order, and admired its soft silkiness by the light of the candle he had set burning, Nouna had added to his difficulties by falling, like a tired kitten, fast asleep. He called to her gently two or three times, and was at last forced to come to the conclusion that she did not mean to wake up. After a moment’s reflection he resolved to take advantage of the circumstance. It was getting very late, and if he were to insist on rousing her, she might have another little scene in store for him before she would consent to go. So he put on her cap, picked up her gloves and put them in his pocket, and lifting her in his arms, wrapped the beaded mantle about her and carried her down stairs, during which proceeding she patted his cheek sleepily but really seemed only half awake. He passed nobody but the sentry, who could scarcely conceal his surprise on finding which of the young officers it was who was engaged in such an evident “lark.” He was just in time to catch a train to Victoria, and until they arrived there Nouna declined to wake up. Outside the station, George got with his sleepy charge into a hansom and, after giving the driver an address in a street at Brompton, occupied himself, as his companion remained motionless except that as he propped her in the corner she promptly fell back against him, in getting her little hands into her gloves. He was very tenderly busy with the first, when a voice from the depths of his shoulders surprised him.
“Wrong hand!”
“Hallo! So you’re awake, are you, little one? Come, lift up your head; I want to put you to rights before we get there.”
“No, no, I don’t want to get there,” said she, stretching up her arm across his breast, “I want to drive about like this all night with you.”
“But we can’t do that, Nouna.”
“Why not?”
“Well, you’d catch cold—”
“No, I shouldn’t; I’m quite warm; feel me.”
“And—and it wouldn’t be considered right.”