“You don’t say so!”
“Just to try to make it up to her, you see, for the anxiety we caused her.”
“It’s noble! That’s what it is. Absolutely noble!”
“And if there’s one thing in the world he loathes it is carrying parcels.”
“The man,” I exclaimed, with fanatical enthusiasm, “is a perfect Sir Galahad!”
“Isn’t he? Why, only the other day——”
She was interrupted. Outside, the front door slammed. There came a pounding of large feet in the passage. The door of the study flew open, and Sir Galahad himself charged in, his arms full of parcels.
“Corky!” he began. Then, perceiving his future wife, who had risen from the chair in alarm, he gazed at her with a wild pity in his eyes, as one who has bad news to spring. “Millie, old girl,” he said, feverishly, “we’re in the soup!”
The girl clutched the table.
“Oh, Stanley, darling!”