She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. “But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. “It was perhaps my fault. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was.
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