"It is prodigious amiable of you, sir. I hasten to accept. On Wednesday, I think you said? With all the pleasure on earth!"
"Cleone, my dear, give me your arm as far as that rose-bush. You shall choose me a button-hole, if you will. No, no, Charteris, with her own fair fingers!" He bore Cleone away to the other end of the garden, leaving Mr. Bancroft disconsolate. When they were out of hearing Sir Maurice looked down into the roguish blue eyes. "My dear, you are a minx."
Cleone dimpled charmingly.
"I don't know why you should say so, sir."
"Of course not," agreed Sir Maurice. "Now what is the game? It's to make Philip jealous, eh?"
"Sir! How can you?"
"My love, I know all about you, for I am an old man. Make Philip jealous by all means."
"I'm sure I never—"
"Of course not. But I think, with you, that it would be a very good plan. The boy is too stolid and cock-sure."
"Cock—Oh, indeed!"