“Did you, though! Ah!” said Sir Grantley. “Sorry about the headache. Always take brandy and soda for headache I do, don’t you know. By the way, Lady Maude,” he continued, taking his hat off the little dog as if he were performing a conjuring trick, “I bought this beautiful little creechaw in Regent Street just now. Will you accept it from me?”
“Oh, thank you, no,” said Maude. “I’m sure mamma would not approve of my accepting such a present.”
“Oh, yes, I asked her yesterday, don’t you know, and she said you’d be most happy. Very nice specimen, not often found so small. May I set it down?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Maude, colouring with annoyance; and evidently very glad to get rid of the little animal, the baronet set it down and it began to make a tour of the room.
“Don’t be nervous about accepting presents from me,” said Sir Grantley, “because I shall bring you a great many.”
“I beg you will not, Sir Grantley,” said Maude, flushing. “You must really by now be quite sure that such attentions are distasteful to me.”
“Not used to them, you know,” said the baronet smiling; “but I have her ladyship’s full permission, and we shall understand each other in time. Old gentleman sleeps well.”
“Papa is getting old, and his health is feeble,” said Maude, rather indignantly.
“Yes, very,” said the baronet.—“I don’t want to be a bore, but I’ve said so little to you about our future.”
“Our future?”