Douglas drew her hand through his
arm as they entered the room, and felt a pleasant sensation of
proprietorship at her laughing surrender. He chose a table where they
would least likely be disturbed, and imperilled his reputation with the
smiling waiter by ignoring the inevitable Chianti and calling for
champagne. Cicely reproved him for his extravagance, but sipped her
wine with the air of a connoisseur.
"I couldn't help it," he said, smiling. "You know I've years of
parsimony and misery to make up for yet. This new life is so
delightful, and since you have come--well, I couldn't help celebrating.
Besides, you know, I'm earning quite a good deal of money, and I've
started the novel at last."
"Tell me about it," she begged, with sparkling eyes.
"Presently," he answered, "Eat your fish now, please. Over our coffee I
will tell you the first chapter. And what excuse have you for wearing a
new frock to dazzle the eyes of a lonely bachelor with?"
"Like it?" she asked, turning round on her chair towards him.
"Immensely."
"I made it myself," she said, continuing her dinner, "all since last
Thursday, too."
"Wonderful," he exclaimed, looking at her once more with admiration.
"You must be worn out. Let me fill your glass.
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