"You looked exceedingly nice."
"You really thought so?" she asked, a little doubtfully.
"I really thought so. I thought you looked much nicer than any
of the others."
She squeezed his arm affectionately.
"Dear Leonard," she said, "it's so nice to have you think so. Do
you know, Mr. Grier actually asked me out to supper."
"What impertinence!" Tavernake muttered.
Beatrice threw her head back and laughed.
"My dear brother," she protested, "it was a tremendous
compliment. You must remember that it was entirely through him,
too, that I got the engagement. Four pounds a week I am going to
have. Just think of it!"
"Four pounds a week is all very well," Tavernake admitted. "It
seems a great deal of money to earn like that. But I don't think
you ought to go out to supper with any one whom you know so
slightly."
"Dear prig! You know, you are a shocking prig, Leonard."
"Am I?" he answered, without offence, and with the air of one
seriously considering the subject.
"Of course you are. How could you help it, living the sort of
life you've led all your days? Never mind, I like you for it. I
don't know whether I want to go out to supper with anybody--I
really haven't decided yet--but if I did, it would certainly be
better for me to go with Mr. Grier, because he can do me no end
of good at the theatre, if he likes."
Tavernake was silent for several moments. He was conscious of
feeling something which he did not altogether understand.
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