“Quite true, he’s not. He invariably grunts, ‘Is that all to-day?’ and tells me that I ought to have laid myself out to be particularly nice to everyone for the past fortnight.”
“Greedy brute, isn’t he? But I say, Ethel, isn’t he content with these? I call it a jolly good show considering that the presents from England haven’t come yet. I s’pose it’s just Jim’s peculiar way of expressing his gratitude.”
“Have you shown him the necklet?”
“No fear; he’d have collared it and stuck to it, and pawned it before you could see it. He wouldn’t have had your scruples.”
“I’m afraid that you have a very poor opinion of my husband that-is-to-be, Lieutenant Russell.”
Ted laughed, and most rudely winked.
“About as bad as your own, I guess, Mrs. Major Russell.”
Ted walked round from table to table reading the cards and asking who was who.
“Sir Arthur Fletcher,” he read out, halting before one of the presents. “That’s jolly nice of him!”
“I see Charlie Dorricot’s sent nothing yet?” he added. “He’s due to-night, isn’t he?”