“This is all very well,” she said, “but it is a bad thing to have the fire at your back. Be good enough to put the screen up, Arthur.”
Arthur did so.
“But the story,” Caroline persisted impatiently—she wanted to get to the reconciliation with tears. “How does the story go on?”
“It went on,” I replied, “in much the same way. It is not quite finished yet.”
She looked a virtuous reproof.
“I am surprised, Rollo,” she said, “that you should have behaved in so indiscreet a fashion. I think that on that occasion it was just as well there was nobody there. I should be exceedingly sorry to witness any such proceeding. It would make me extremely uncomfortable.”
I laughed, and stroked my little sister’s hair.
“What liqueur will you take, Millicent?” I asked.
XIV
THE THINGS THAT ARE CÆSAR’S
Almost the whole of my female acquaintance seemed to be gathered in my rooms, and seemed, moreover, to be doing its collective best to persuade me of the superfluity of my presence. The occasion was the eve of Caroline’s wedding, and the natural interest I myself took in the event paled before the engrossing fascination it appeared to have for these ladies. The company consisted largely of Mrs. Loring Chatterton; but she was ably supported by the remainder of her particular set and half a dozen supernumerary bridesmaids, not one of whom—with the exception, perhaps, of a quiet little creature who sat apart and said nothing—but would willingly have turned me out of house and home had she dared, as a person who could perfectly well be dispensed with. From the whispered conversations and secret conferences around me I was rigidly excluded, which I regretted the more as I felt I should have taken a peculiar pleasure in them.