"
"Hear, hear!" said the squire. "Now dry your eyes and be sensible! Miss
Moore will go for me like mad if she finds you crying again. If we don't
pull together we shall have that girl running the whole show before we
are much older, and neither of us will ever dare even to contradict the
other in her presence again. We shouldn't like that, should we?"
She laughed a little in spite of her wan countenance. "Oh, no, Edward. We
mustn't risk that." Then, with a touch of anxiety, "It wasn't Miss
Moore's idea that you should bring me flowers, was it?"
"No." The squire grinned at her suddenly. "The worthy Columbus was
responsible for that. I found him routing in the lily-bed after snails or
some such delicacy. He was so infernally busy he made me feel ashamed. So
I went down on my knees and joined him, gathered the lot,--nearly killed
myself over it, but that's an unimportant detail. Now for your
champagne! You'll feel a different woman when you've had it."
He departed, leaving his wife looking after him with an odd wistfulness
in her eyes. She was seeing him in a new light which made her feel
strangely uncertain of herself also. Was it possible that all these years
of misunderstanding, which she had regarded as inevitable, might have
been avoided after all?
A quick sigh rose to her lips as again she took his flowers and held them
against her face.
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