'Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose; but Percy and I think it is rather a pity——' Here Geraldine gave a slight cough, warned by a look from her husband.
'What is a pity, my dear?'
'Oh, it does not matter—at least, Percy does not wish me to speak.'
'Geraldine is rather like the dog in the manger,' interrupted Mr. Harcourt. 'Because I will not let her come to your dinner-party, she would rather you did not have one at all. That is it, isn't it, Jerry?'
Mrs. Ross smiled benevolently at this little sally. She liked to hear her son-in-law's jokes. She never joked Geraldine herself, and so she seldom saw that girlish blush that was so becoming.
When she had taken her leave, Geraldine said to her husband:
'Why did you stop me just now when I was dropping that hint about Mr. Blake?'
'Because I thought the hint premature, my dear,' he returned drily, 'and because it is not our place to warn Mr. Blake off the premises; he is not the first young man, and I do not expect he will be the last, to admire Audrey.'
'But, Percy, I am quite sure that Mr. Blake is too handsome and too attractive altogether to be a harmless admirer.'
'Pooh! nonsense, my love. Don't let your imagination run away with you. Audrey is too sensible a girl to let herself fall in love with a young fellow like Blake. Now shall I go on with our book?' For that day Geraldine was considered an invalid, and as her husband thought fit to indulge and make much of her, she was not so sure she disliked her passing indisposition, any more than Mr. Harcourt disliked playing Darby to his handsome Joan.