'Yes, but he is too handsome,' was the regretful reply; and then Audrey joined them.
'I knew you would say so,' she observed, with quite a pleased expression. 'Handsome is hardly the word; Mr. Blake has a beautiful face—he is like a Greek god.'
Geraldine drew herself up a little stiffly.
'My dear Audrey, how absurd! do Greek gods have olive complexions? How Percival will laugh when I tell him that!'
'To be sure,' returned Audrey calmly; 'thank you for reminding me that you are married, Gage; I am always forgetting it. That is the worst of having one's sister married; one is never sure that one's little jokes and speeches are not repeated. Now, as my confidences are not intended for Percival, I will learn slowly and painfully to hold my tongue for the future.'
This very natural speech went home, as Audrey intended it should. With all her dictatorial ways and clever management, Geraldine had a very warm heart.
'Oh, Audrey dear,' she said, quite grieved at this, 'I hope you are not speaking seriously. Of course I will not repeat it to Percival if you do not wish it; but when you are married yourself you will know how difficult it is to keep back any little thing that interests one.'
'When I am married—I mean, if I be ever married,' substituted Audrey, blushing a little, as girls will—'I hope I shall be quite as capable of self-control and discrimination as in my single days. I have never considered the point very closely; but now I come to think of it, I would certainly have an understanding with my husband on the wedding-day. "My dear Clive," I would say to him—Clive is a favourite name of mine; I hope I shall marry a Clive—"you must understand once for all that, though I intend to treat you with wifely confidence, I shall only tell my own secrets—not other people's." And he will reply, "Audrey, you are the most honourable of women. I respected you before; I venerate you now."'
'Audrey, how you talk!' But Mrs. Harcourt could not help laughing. Audrey was looking very nice this evening; white always suited her. To be sure, her hair might have been smoother. 'There is some sort of charm about her that is better than beauty,' she thought, with sisterly admiration; and then she asked her mother if she did not think Percival looked a little pale.
'He works too hard,' she continued; 'and he will not break himself of his old bachelor habit of sitting up late.'