‘Only one word. I don’t know how to thank Dora, how to express my infinite sense of her goodness. Will you try to do so for me? You can speak to her with calmness. Will you tell her what I have said to you?’
‘Oh, certainly.—I should recommend a cooling draught of some kind. Look in at a chemist’s as you walk on.’
The heavens did not fall before the marriage-day, and the wedded pair betook themselves for a few weeks to the Continent. They had been back again and established in their house at Earl’s Court for a month, when one morning about twelve o’clock Jasper dropped in, as though casually. Dora was writing; she had no thought of entirely abandoning literature, and had in hand at present a very pretty tale which would probably appear in The English Girl. Her boudoir, in which she sat, could not well have been daintier and more appropriate to the charming characteristics of its mistress.
Mrs Whelpdale affected no literary slovenliness; she was dressed in light colours, and looked so lovely that even Jasper paused on the threshold with a smile of admiration.
‘Upon my word,’ he exclaimed, ‘I am proud of my sisters! What did you think of Maud last night? Wasn’t she superb?’
‘She certainly did look very well. But I doubt if she’s very happy.’
‘That is her own look out; I told her plainly enough my opinion of Dolomore. But she was in such a tremendous hurry.’
‘You are detestable, Jasper! Is it inconceivable to you that a man or woman should be disinterested when they marry?’
‘By no means.’
‘Maud didn’t marry for money any more than I did.’