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Well, this being so, she would put off telling him the truth about her nest-egg, and about Rose not being his hostess after all, till next day. Pity to spoil things. She had been going to blurt it out as soon as he had had a rest, but it did seem a pity to disturb such a very beautiful frame of mind as that of Mellersh this first day. Let him too get more firmly fixed in heaven.

How he could have married Mrs. Wilkins was a mystery. Lotty, for her part, looked on with round eyes. She had expected Mellersh to take at least two days before he got to this stage, but the San Salvatore spell had worked instantly.

But this arrangement, as it happened, was ever so much better, though not through any merit of hers. She talked and laughed gaily, not a shred of fear of him left in her, and even when she said, struck by his spotlessness, that he looked so clean that one could eat one's dinner off him, and Scrap laughed, Mellersh laughed too.

But after having been very sick, just to arrive at Calais and not be sick was happiness, and it was there that the real splendour of what they were doing first began to warm their benumbed spirits. It got hold of Mrs. Wilkins first, and spread from her like a rose-coloured flame over her pale companion. Mellersh at Calais, where they restored themselves with soles because of Mrs.

That young Briggs is " "Of course he is. What did you expect? Let's go indoors to the fire and Mrs. Fisher. She's all by herself." "I cannot," said Mr. Wilkins, trying to draw back, "leave Lady Caroline alone in the garden." "Don't be silly, Mellersh she isn't alone. Besides, I want to tell you something." "Well tell me, then." "Indoors." With reluctance that increased at every step Mr.

She laughed to herself a little at the picture of Mellersh, that top-hatted, black-coated, respectable family solicitor, arrayed in stars, but she laughed affectionately, almost with a maternal pride in how splendid he would look in such fine clothes. "Poor lamb," she murmured to herself affectionately. And added, "What he wants is a thorough airing." This was during the first half of the week.

Arbuthnot were to start, she would tell Mellersh of her invitation on the third Sunday, then, after a very well-cooked lunch in which the Yorkshire pudding had melted in his mouth and the apricot tart had been so perfect that he ate it all, Mellersh, smoking his cigar by the brightly burning fire the while hail gusts banged on the window, said "I am thinking of taking you to Italy for Easter."

"I'm sorry, Mellersh," said Mrs. Wilkins, pretending meekness, "if you don't like it." "Like it! You've taken leave of your senses. Why they've never set eyes on each other before to-day." "That's true. But that's why they're able now to go ahead." "Go ahead!" Mr. Wilkins could only echo the outrageous words. "I'm sorry, Mellersh," said Mrs. Wilkins again, "if you don't like it, but "

Whereupon she put her arm through his and held it tight and said, "Oh, Mellersh, you really are too sweet!" her face red with pride in him. That he should so quickly assimilate the atmosphere, that he should at once become nothing but kindness, showed surely what a real affinity he had with good and beautiful things. He belonged quite naturally in this place of heavenly calm.

When first he suggested she should add Mellersh she had objected for the above reason, and after a pause Mellersh was much too prudent to speak except after a pause, during which presumably he was taking a careful mental copy of his coming observation he said, much displeased, "But I am not a villa," and looked at her as he looks who hopes, for perhaps the hundredth time, that he may not have married a fool.