His eyes glowed. Isabel touched his glass with her own. "To the dearest husband in the whole big world!" she responded, then kissed him. He held her away from him, feasting on her beauty. But she begged for freedom, and took her place at the opposite side of the table. "We must behave," she cautioned. "He's coming! I hear him down the hall."
"I will be circumspect," Philip promised. "But I'm losing my appetite. I don't feel glad of salad and the rest. Let's fire him before the coffee; I want to sip mine with my wife on my knee."
"For shame!" she chided, as the waiter tapped the door, with a loaded tray. "Do seem to be hungry. If we send things back untouched we shall be the talk of the hotel kitchen." Laughter was a natural part of the little dinner. "It is just like playing party," she declared, when the man again disappeared.
"Please pass the sugar," Philip begged. "Won't you kiss me again?"
"Not now," she refused. "We must remember that Reginald is learning table manners; if we act too badly through our honeymoon, he may notice shortcomings when we get home. Besides, he's coming—the waiter's coming. Be dignified."
"Will coffee ever begin?" Philip complained.
"Very soon." They both laughed.
"Which shall I use, a fork or a spoon for my frozen pudding?"
"Your fork—by all means; now please talk sensibly; he's just outside."
Philip thought of the king who dined without servants, and wished that he too had built a table for the occasion, one with a dummy lift in its center, to bring up food and to carry away the dishes.