Fisher, very stately in her evening lace
shawl and brooch, who when she saw him at once relaxed into smiles and
benignity, only to stiffen, however, when she caught sight of the
stranger; then Mr. Wilkins, cleaner and neater and more carefully
dressed and brushed than any man on earth; and then, tying something
hurriedly as she came, Mrs. Wilkins; and then nobody.
Lady Caroline was late. Where was she? Had she heard the gong?
Oughtn't it to be beaten again? Suppose she didn't come to dinner
after all. . .
Briggs went cold.
"Introduce me," said Frederick on Mrs. Fisher's entrance,
touching Rose's elbow.
"My husband," said Rose, holding him by the hand, her face
exquisite.
"This," thought Mrs. Fisher, "must now be the last of the
husbands, unless Lady Caroline produces one from up her sleeve."
But she received him graciously, for he certainly looked exactly
like a husband, not at all like one of those people who go about abroad
pretending they are husbands when they are not, and said she supposed
he had come to accompany his wife home at the end of the month, and
remarked that now the house would be completely full. "So that," she
added, smiling at Briggs, "we shall at last really be getting our
money's worth."
Briggs grinned automatically, because he was just able to realize
that somebody was being playful with him, but he had not heard her and
he did not look at her.
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