Her devotion to Rosemary was wonderful to see. By the way, while I think of it, the child was quite adorable. She was learning to pronounce my name, and getting nearer and nearer to it every day. At the time of which I now write she was calling me (with great enthusiasm), by the name of "Go-go," which, reduced to aboriginal American, means "Man-with-the-Strong-Arm-Who-Carries-Baby."
"It is very nice of you to ask me up to dine with you," said I.
"Isn't it about time I was doing something for you in return for all that you have done for me?" she inquired gaily. "We are having a particularly nice dinner this evening, and I thought you'd enjoy a change."
"A change?" said I, with a laugh. "As if we haven't been eating out of the same kettle for days!"
"I was not referring to the food," she said, and I was very properly squelched.
"Nevertheless, speaking of food," said I, "it may interest you to know that I expected to have rather a sumptuous repast of my own to celebrate the deliverance. A fine plump pheasant, prepared a la Oscar, corn fritters like mother used to make, potatoes picard,—"
"And a wonderful alligator pear salad," she interrupted, her eyes dancing.
I stared. "How in the world did you guess?"
She laughed in pure delight, and I began to understand. By the Lord Harry, the amazing creature was inviting me to eat my own dinner in her salle manger! "Well, may I be hanged! You do beat the Dutch!"
She was wearing a wonderful dinner gown of Irish lace, and she fairly sparkled with diamonds. There was no ornament in her brown hair, however, nor were her little pink ears made hideous by ear-rings. Her face was a jewel sufficient unto itself. I had never seen her in an evening gown before. The effect was really quite ravishing. As I looked at her standing there by the big oak table, I couldn't help thinking that the Count was not only a scoundrel but all kinds of a fool.