"They all came to say good-morning," she explained, "and how could I think of my clothing? Would you ask Farris to fetch a whisk-broom?"
Desboro rang: "A whisk-broom for—for Mrs. Desboro," he said.
Mrs. Desboro!
She had looked up startled; it was the first time she had heard it from his lips, and even the reiteration of her maid had not accustomed her to hear herself so named.
Both had blushed before Farris, both had thrilled as the words had fallen from Desboro's unaccustomed lips; but both attempted to appear perfectly tranquil and undisturbed by what had shocked them as no bomb explosion possibly could. And the old man came back with the whisk-broom, and Desboro dusted the cat fur and puppy hairs from Jacqueline's brand-new gown.
They were going to town by train, not having time to spare.
"It will be full of commuters," he said, teasingly. "You don't know what a godsend a bride is to commuters. I pity you."
"I shall point my nose particularly high, monsieur. Do you suppose I'll know anybody aboard?"
"What if you don't! They'll know who you are! And they'll all read their papers and stare at you from time to time, comparing you with what the papers say about you——"
"Jim! Stop tormenting me. Do I look sallow and horrid? I believe I'll run up to my room and do a little friction on my cheeks——"