She turned her shapely head towards me, and for an instant her eyes searched mine.
"Do you really believe that?" she asked, in a very low-sweet voice.
I stood before her, penitently.
"I don't suppose I do," I acknowledged. "Let us say that it was just some of the growling of the dog. He doesn't usually mean anything by it."
"You're an awfully good fellow, John," said the little nurse, pleasantly. "I know I've been hurting you a bit. Please, I'm sorry the medicine tastes so badly."
The only thing I could do was to lift up one of her hands and kiss a white kid glove, faute de mieux. It was stretched over her fingers, however, and hence was part of her.
When we reached the restaurant she selected a table and placed herself so that she might see as many diners as possible. If there had been people outside of Paradise, Eve would certainly have peeped through the palings. I handed her the bill of fare and she begged for Cape Cods.
"You order the rest of it," she commanded. "I'm going to look."
While I discussed dishes with the waiter her eyes wandered over the big room, taking in pretty dresses and becoming coiffures. Then she watched the leader of the little orchestra, who certainly wielded a masterful bow, and gave a little sigh of content.
"We really could afford this at least once or twice a week," I sought to tempt her, "and the theatre besides, and—and—"