She laughed. “No; but it’s so long since I went out to lunch, probably I shouldn’t know how to behave.”
“I never could,” he answered. “Eat peas with my knife, talk with my mouth full—never was such a fellar as me. Come on—lively does it. What ’ud you like to do afterwards?”
“Anything.”
“ ’Cos I’ve an idea—more’n that, I’ve the means of carrying it out. Listen to the program: Taxi; a sole and a cutlet at the Berkeley Grill, with just a little Rhine wine to help it along. Then what? I suggest a picture gallery, and you nod—I suggest a theatre, and you nod a bit more agreeably. Finally, I suggest a shopping excursion up Bond Street and down Regent Street, with a taxi rolling from door to door to carry the parcels; at this you nod vigorously—and perhaps you smile. You shall have a Crême de Cacao after your ice, and then you will smile. The third and last proposal is carried unanimously, and before we start we make out a complete trousseau on the back of the menu card. Outside and inside we’ll get the lot. What do you say?”
Eve leant over and touched his hand.
“It sounds so lovely,” she said in a trembling voice; “but what do I want with a trousseau?”
“Want with it? Every one wants a trousseau.”
“If anybody cared how you looked in it.”
Uncle Clem’s forehead clouded, and his eyes rested upon her. As he looked he noted how sadly she was dressed.
“Little Eve,” he said, “has he ever seen you in a trousseau? I mean—look here, my dear, we men are such poor trivial, sleepy beings. We only wake up when something bangs us in the eye. Have you never thought it might be worth while to bang him in the eye with all that beauty of yours in the setting it deserves? You see we get used to things as they are, and never bother our heads with things as they might be. Don’t answer. I know it’s all quite indefensible, and I know you know it too. But just for fun—for a lark—a spree, let’s go out and do this thing. He’ll be in later, yes?”