Crabb always recognized the note of finality in his wife’s voice, so he merely shrugged his shoulders and followed her with his eyes as she blew another kiss in his direction and vanished up the stairs.
In the privacy of her own room Patricia did some cryptic things with newspapers, a pair of scissors, and the package from the adorable printers, and when she had finished, she folded up the newspapers, with their mysterious contents, including the scissors, and with a fleeting glance at herself in the mirror, went down stairs.
She entered the library noiselessly and after a glance at her guests at the tea-table, she slipped her package into the drawer of the library table and joined them.
“How envious you make me—you two,” she sighed, sinking into a chair, “you’re so satisfied with yourselves—and with each other.”
DeLaunay smiled and fingered his tea-cup.
“Would you have it otherwise?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she said lightly, “I’m a professional nursery governess to polite and well-meaning persons of opposite sexes. Nursery governesses are not permitted emotions or opinions of any kind, my dears.”
“But even nursery governesses are human, I am told,” said DeLaunay, showing his white teeth.
“Are they? My governesses never were. They were all inhuman—like me. The sight of youthful license arouses all my professional instincts. That’s why I’m in such demand by despairing mothers of romantic heiresses.”