He laughed, patting her arm. “My dear practical little wife, what a help you are! Do you know, I feel as if I had always been married. I was thinking of that the other day. I can’t think of myself any more as not married. I can’t think of myself as apart from you. Have you ever felt that way?”
She looked into his face and smiled.
“Ever since the very first day we became engaged,” she said, and he leaned forward and started to clasp her in his arms, when they heard a rustle of leaves behind them. Instinctively they drew away from each other. Then they heard Fanny Wallace exclaim:
“Oh, here they are!”
Fanny was out of breath, and young Fullerton was waving his handkerchief before his face. They had evidently been dancing desperately.
“Oh, Auntie,” the girl panted, after a moment, “the great Mrs. Senator Aspinwall is going, and she’s looking around for you, to say good-night. What in the world are you doing here?”
“Mr. Stone is moping in the drawing-room, sir,” said Guy, respectfully. “He looks as if he wanted to eat somebody’s head off.”
Briggs smiled and passed his hand over his face. “I don’t believe Stone enjoys parties. He feels more at home at his club. I suppose we ought to go, Helen.” He rose wearily and stretched out his arms. “What a bore it is!” he said. “I suppose we’ll have to stop and speak to some of those people in the ballroom,” he whispered, noticing a group that had just come downstairs.
As soon as they had left the conservatory Fanny turned to her companion. “Uncle and Auntie are just like lovers, aren’t they? Do you suppose you’ll be like that when you’ve been married ten years?”
Guy lost no time in seizing the advantage. “That’ll depend a good deal on you,” he said, insinuatingly.