"I should hold it in my hand," she said.
"Wonderful!"—McTaggart laughed—"and it never even occurred to me."
He was relieved—at the same time piqued—by her smiling air of unconcern.
"Under the circumstances, too, it might appear more chivalrous."
He added the speech in a lower tone, with a sudden mischievous desire to stir in her a slight revolt. And, as if conscious of his thought, the brown eyes were averted. A faint fugitive color stole under the fairness of her skin.
The Bishop's glance sought his hostess. Between the pair of elderly folk a silent question and answer flashed.
"That's what I shall do," said McTaggart, "kneel and press it to my heart. I'd far rather have it there than balanced on my luckless head. Unfortunately," his voice was light—"you'll miss all my exquisite acting—unless you peep beneath your lashes. Do tell me that you will? Of course you're supposed to be asleep."
"You talk as if it were quite settled," Mrs. Cadell with a smile, interposed, "but I haven't yet decided whether Cydonia will take the part."
"Oh! you couldn't be so cruel!" McTaggart showed his disappointment. "Think of poor Lady Leason. You've no idea how worried she is. And, if your daughter refuses to help us, we're threatened with Mrs. Bertie Eying. She's simply dying to take it on. Just picture her as a Sleeping Beauty!"
He gave a sudden shiver and turned toward the amused Bishop.