"
At all events, not _she_, nor any other woman, shall ever see what I am or
am not. My heart is not for them to peck at. So I said, calmly:
"Carmen was stabbed!"
"And serve her right! Fascinating, fiendish demon!" Then she laughed, her
mood changing.
"Did you see Charlie?" she said.
"We breakfasted together."
"Cheerful person, isn't he?"
"No," I said. "He looked cross and ill."
"Ill!" she said, with a shade of anxiety. "Oh, you only mean dyspeptic."
"Perhaps."
"Well, he always does when he comes from Paris. If you could go into his
room and see the row of photographs on his mantelpiece, you might guess
why."
"Pictures of 'Sole Dieppoise' and 'Poulet a la Victoria aux Truffes,' no
doubt," I hazarded.
She doubled up with laughter. "Yes, just that," she said. "Well, he adores
me in his way, and will bring me a new Cartier ring to make up for it--you
will see at luncheon."
"He is a perfect husband, then."
"About the same as you will find Christopher. Only Christopher will start
by being an exquisite lover. There is nothing he does not know, and
Charlie has not an idea of that part. Heavens!--the dulness of my
honeymoon!"
"Mrs. Carruthers said all honeymoons were only another parallel to going
to the dentist or being photographed. Necessary evils to be got through
for the sake of the results.
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