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I guess it will come out all right. At least, I don't believe you can take him away if I say no." "Thank you; and wait, no matter how long," she said to her driver. Catching up the paper, she hurried to the desk and laid down Lord O'More's card. "Has my uncle started yet?" she asked sweetly. The surprised clerk stepped back on a bellboy, and covertly kicked him for being in the way.
"His lordship is in his room," he said, with a low bow. "All right," said the Angel, picking up the card. "I thought he might have started. I'll see him." The clerk shoved the bellboy toward the Angel. "Show her ladyship to the elevator and Lord O'More's suite," he said, bowing double. "Aw, thanks," said the Angel with a slight nod, as she turned away.
I don't know what I should have done if poor Lucy had been there. Thereupon the ladies went upstairs, Maurice following Sophy to extract a full account of the skirmish. The imp probably had an instinct that she would think more of what redounded to Ulick O'More's glory than of what would be edifying to his own infant mind.
The opening of the door created a current that swayed a curtain aside, and in an adjoining room, lounging in a big chair, with a paper in his hand, sat a man who was, beyond question, of Freckles' blood and race. With perfect control the Angel dropped Lord O'More's card in the tray, stepped past his servant, and stood before his lordship. "Good morning," she said with tense politeness.
'Pray, has any one called on Genevieve? though she could dispense with it. 'Oh, yes; Bryan O'More spent a fortnight there. And see what a moustache will do! The Osbornes, Drurys, Wolfes, and Co., all dubbed themselves dear Mrs. O'More's dearest friends.
"And you like him best?" persisted the Angel with finality. "I love him so much that I would give up every one of them with dry eyes if by so doing I could save him," cried Lord O'More's wife. "Oh!" cried the Angel. "Oh, my!" She lifted her clear eyes to Lord O'More's and shook her head. "She never, never could do that!" she said.
There was a silken rustle, then a beautiful woman with cheeks of satiny pink, dark hair, and eyes of pure Irish blue, moved to Lord O'More's side, and catching his arm, shook him impatiently. "Terence! Have you lost your senses?" she cried. "Didn't you understand what the child said? Look at her face! See what she has!" Lord O'More opened his eyes widely and sat up.
Mr. Kendal drove his ladies to fetch her. He had lately indulged the household with a large comfortable open carriage with two horses, a rival to Mr. O'More's notable car, where he used to drive in an easy lounging fashion on one side, with Hyder Ali to balance him on the other. This was a grand shopping day, an endless business, and as the autumn day began to close in, even Mr.
"Well," said the Angel judicially, "the Bird Woman says no one in the whole world knows all a man's bignesses and all his littlenesses as his wife does. What you think of him should do for me. Do you like him?" The question was so earnestly asked that it met with equal earnestness. The dark head moved caressingly against Lord O'More's sleeve.
Kendal, 'that I am as much hurt as he can be, that such an improper use should have been made of O'More's intimacy here, and I mean to mark my sense of it. 'And, said Lucy, 'I don't think anything would pacify him so much as Maurice being only a little beaten, not to hurt him, you know. 'If Maurice be punished, it shall not be in revenge, said Mr. Kendal.
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