“Tell me now, Mrs. Herbert, about the bush. Is it not better to have two in the bush than the bird in your hand?”
“Are you asking merely as a journalist, Mr. George? Or do you honestly desire information?”
“I desire honest information and information honestly.”
“Two in the bush,” she repeated.
“Sir Ralph and Mr. Buxton,” suggested the inquirer softly. “Perhaps you prefer the bird in your hand as well as the two in the bush, for they are still there. They have returned to town, and are looking more cheerful than they appeared at your wedding. If you remember, they left that festive scene early, before your departure for the desert of matrimony.”
“The bird in the hand is enough for me,” said Lily, “enough now.”
“Ah!” said her husband, with an air of abstraction, “now.”
“Yes, now,” she said defiantly.
“Now,” repeated Mr. George, with exaggerated emphasis. “Why are we all talking of now? Tell me about Launa, Mrs. Herbert? Where is she?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Herbert, “where is she?”