Nothing is sacred from one's
maid. She knew all about Mr. Carruthers, of course. Poor old Veronique!
I have a big, warm corner for her in my heart. Sometimes she treats me
with the frigid respect one would pay to a queen, and at others I am
almost her _enfant_, so tender and motherly she is to me. And she puts
up with all my tempers and moods, and pets me like a baby just when I am
the worst of all.
Lord Robert had left me reluctantly when the luncheon gong sounded.
"Haven't we been happy?" he said, taking it for granted I felt the same
as he did. This is a very engaging quality of his, and makes one feel
sympathetic, especially when he looks into one's eyes with his sleepy
blue ones. He has lashes as long and curly as a gypsy's baby.
Mr. Carruthers was alone in the dining-room when I got in; he was
looking out of the window, and turned round sharply as I came up the
room. I am sure he would like to have been killing flies on the panes if
he had been a boy. His eyes were steel.
"Where have you been all the time?" he asked, when he had shaken hands
and said good-morning.
"Up in my room, packing," I said, simply. "Lord Robert was so kind he
helped me. We have got everything done; and may I order the carriage for
the 5.15 train, please?"
"Certainly not. Confound Lord Robert!" Mr. Carruthers said.
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