By your
unselfishness she has indeed become all that we hoped--and more, one
to be proud of. But I grow garrulous in her praise--go to her and see
for yourself. She is awaiting you in her boudoir with Mrs.
Vere-Manville."
So saying, his lordship rang and the silent Atkinson appeared, who led
us up a wide stairway and so to a dainty chamber where, bowing, he
left us.
A faint perfume was in the air, elusive but sweetly intimate. Upon an
ottoman lay a fan and a pair of lace mittens.
"Begad," murmured Anthony, sniffing, "there's nothing like perfume to
give a fellow palpitations, and palpitations always make my cravat too
tight--devilish thing's choking me! A good woman, Perry, can be the
most doocedly alluring, devilish engaging, utterly provoking creature
in creation--far more so than--t' other sort. I'm married and I know!"
"Yes," said I, looking down at the discarded fan and deeply stirred by
the elusive fragrance.
"Devil take this cravat!" exclaimed Anthony, wrestling with it before
a mirror. "If they don't come soon, 't will be wreck, demmit! I wish
to heaven they'd come."
"So do I, Anthony!"
"Finishing touches, I expect, Perry--they will do it! And mean to
surprise us, of course." But as moment after moment elapsed, his
impatience grew. "I wonder what's keeping 'em!" he exclaimed.
"I wonder!" said I.
At the end of ten minutes he was striding up and down the room in a
very ferment.
"Damned strange!" he muttered.
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