“That’s just it, Heaven does know we’re both of us perilously nearly fifty, and really ought to have learned how to behave by now.”
“Nonsense, I won’t believe a word of it. Every one knows that there is nothing so untruthful as Anno Domini, and I’m convinced that neither of us is a day more than thirty. You don’t look it, and I’m sure I don’t feel it.”
“You really must not press my hands so hard. I tell you it’s ridiculous.”
She positively blushed, and the Canon’s blue eyes were brighter than ever, as he noticed this sign of confusion.
“Do you remember how once we walked together in Kensington Gardens? We didn’t think ourselves ridiculous then.”
It was a tactless thing to say, but perhaps Theodore did not remember the exact circumstances so well as Mrs. Fitzherbert. She tightened her lips as she recalled that last scene, and there was no doubt now that she wanted him to leave her hands.
“You’re hurting me,” she said. “My rings.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” He looked at her face. “But what have I said to annoy you?”
“Nothing,” she replied, with a smile, recovering herself quickly. “But my carriage has been waiting for an hour, and I really must go out.”
“Fool that I am! Why didn’t you send me away before?”