The waiter went off in the leisurely style that was only consistent with the management of an establishment that dated back to King John; and in a few minutes Beatrice appeared, having laid aside her sealskin coat, and her hat.
How exquisite she seemed as she stood for an instant in the subdued light at the door!
And she was his.
CHAPTER XLV.—ON MOONLIGHT AND MORALS.
S HE was his.
He felt the joy of it as she stood at the door in her beautifully fitting travelling dress.
The thought sent an exultant glow through his veins, as he looked at her from where he was standing at the hearth. (There was no “cosy corner” abomination.)
She was his.