“Go ahead,” said Douglas Briggs. “I’m not looking.”
Guy and Fanny embraced silently.
Fanny glanced at the shoulders bent over the table. “Thank you, sir,” she said, meekly.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Guy cried, reproachfully.
“Because I thought I’d give you a surprise, sleepy-head.”
Briggs turned on his swivel-chair. “I guess you two’d better go into the other room.”
“Can’t I do anything for you, sir?” Guy asked. “The correspondence?”
“No hurry about that. I’ll ring when I need you. Oh, Fanny, you might ask your aunt to look in here a moment. I want to speak to her.”
“All right.” Fanny danced radiantly out of the room, followed by Guy. A moment later Briggs heard her call up the stairs: “Oh, auntie, Uncle Doug wants you.”
He listened and heard his wife descending. The sound of her footsteps gave him a strange feeling of mingled pleasure and discomfort. He had begun to resent her treatment of him. “Good-morning,” he said, cheerfully, as she entered. He rose quickly and offered her a chair.