She turned aside, busying herself with her toilet. “I don’t come in. I went out five years ago,” she cried, with a mocking laugh.
“Do you know,” he muttered, “I often wonder why the deuce you an’ I got married.”
“Because, sweet Reginald, we were made for each other by a wise Providence. What other woman of your acquaintance would tolerate you—as a husband?”
“Oh, dash it all! if it comes to that——”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t fuss, or begin to think. Run away and interview the head waiter. Then you are to buttonhole Bower and the American. I am just sending a chit to the Badminton-Smythes.”
“Who is my partner?”
“Lulu, of course.”
De la Vere was puzzled, and looked it. “I suppose it is all right,” he growled. “Still, I can’t help thinking you’ve got something up your sleeve, Edie.”
She stamped a very pretty foot angrily. “Do as I tell you! Didn’t you hear what Bower said? He will be everlastingly obliged to us for coming to the rescue in this fashion. Next time you have a flutter in the city, his friendship may be useful.”
“By gad!” cried Reginald, beginning, as he fancied, to see light, “something seems to have bitten you this evening. Tell you what—Lulu is a non-runner. Get Bower to put you on to a soft thing in Africans, an’ you an’ I will have a second honeymoon in Madeira next winter. Honor bright! I mean it.”