She spoke with the freedom of one accustomed to advise all her male acquaintance for their good. George laughed.
"Tired? Not I. I was before dinner. Look here, Miss Sewell, I've got a question to ask."
"Ask it."
"You don't want to spoil my great day, do you? You do repent that headache?"
They looked at each other, dancing laughter in each pair of eyes, combined in his with an excited insistence.
"Good-night, Sir George," she said, holding out her hand.
He retained it.
"You do?" he said, bending over her.
She liked the situation, and made no immediate effort to change it.
"Ask me a month hence, when I have proved your statements."