“There’s only me in the house, dear,” she said, and led the way to their room.
When they reached it, she closed the door, and turned to him.
“So they won’t take your story?” she said, assuming the fact, with a sad, sunny smile.
“They refused it absolutely.”
“Well, never mind! I shall go out charing tomorrow. You have no notion how strong I am. It is well for you I have never wanted to beat you. Seriously, I believe I am much stronger than you have the least notion of. There! Feel that arm—I should let you feel it another way, only I am afraid of hurting you.”
She had turned up the sleeve of her dress, and uncovered a grandly developed arm, white as milk, and blossoming in a large, splendidly formed hand. Then playfully, but oh! so tenderly, with the under and softest part of her arm she fondled his face, rubbing it over first one, then the other cheek, and ended with both arms round his neck, her hands folding his head to her bosom.