“I have telegraphed to Simpson to come down by the early train to-day,” she said.
“The deuce you have!” I exclaimed, and, starting from my impassive attitude, I dropped my coat-tails, and stepped off the rug as if it had suddenly turned into a hot plate.
“Yes,” continued Mrs. de Winton, quite unmoved by my complimentary ejaculation, “it is my duty, since you are too indifferent to your own interest to take the....”
“Clide, Clide! Where are you?” cried a sweet voice from the terrace, and, running up the slopes, Isabel flattened her nose against the window, peering into the room in search of me. I was so placed that she could not see me, but she saw my step-mother. Glad to escape from what threatened to be a stormy interview, I flew to the window, opened it, and rejoined my wife.
“Was she scolding you?” asked Isabel, casting a puzzled glance towards the room where I had so unceremoniously “planted” my step-mother.
“No, darling,” I answered, laughing.
“What was she saying?” inquired Isabel.
“What an inquisitive little puss it is!” I said, partly amused and partly at a nonplus for a satisfactory answer.
“Tell me. I'll go, if you don't!” And she prepared to carry out the threat by unlocking her hands and letting go my arm.
But I seized the refractory hands, and held them tight.