Marion had her reward.
“What sort of a person is Mrs. Baxter?” he asked presently.
“A little woman,” replied Marion, “not pretty, but very well dressed. Rather lively too. At least with plenty to say for herself. Good-natured too, I should think, though of course not very refined. But we got on very well.”
He looked relieved.
“I am glad you did not find it very dis-agreeable,” he said. “After all, dear, it may be a good thing for you to have a few acquaintances here, and even a family dinner at the Baxters’ may be a little variety for you.”
She was leaving the room as he spoke. As she passed him she stooped and kissed his forehead as he lay back on the regulation sofa.
“Yes, dear Geoffrey,” she said; “I have no doubt it will be rather amusing than otherwise. Besides, it is always interesting and good for one to see the different sorts of people there are in this queer world.”
He caught her hands and clasped them in his own, looking up at her with ineffable tenderness in his eyes.
“Marion,” he said again, as he had said a few evenings before, “my darling, you are an angel!”
He had no great command of language, you see, poor fellow!