“It’s taken you some time to avail yourself of the privilege of speaking to me,” she answered, glancing at the menu.
“I wanted to appease the pangs of my hunger first, so that I could devote myself to the pleasure of your conversation with an undistracted mind.”
“Then you agree with me, that a man is only quite human when he’s eaten his dinner?” she smiled.
“My thoughts are never so ethereal as when my body is occupied with the process of digestion,” the Canon replied, ironically.
He thought that Mrs. Fitzherbert wore uncommonly well. She had always been a fine creature, but he had never guessed that the girl of somewhat overwhelming physique whom he had known a quarter of a century before, would turn into this stately woman. The years only increased her attractiveness, and she had reason to look upon the common foes of mankind as her particular friends. She held herself with the assurance of a woman who has enjoyed masculine admiration. The Canon’s eyes rested with approval on the gown which displayed to advantage her beautiful figure.
These flattering reflections were, perhaps, obvious on his face, for the lady smiled.
“You may make it,” she said, with a flash of her exquisite teeth.
“What?” asked the Canon, innocently opening his eyes.
“The compliment that’s on the tip of your tongue.”
“I think you grow handsomer every day,” he answered, without hesitation.