Her overwhelming affection for Bob and his for her
had given her life in London and its entertaining accompaniments.
Her frankness in the matter of this desirable capture when she
talked to her husband was at once light and friendly.
"Of course you will be able to get credit at his tailor's as you
know him so well," she said. "When I persuaded him to go with me
to Madame Helene's last week she was quite amiable. He helped me
to choose six dresses and I believe she would have let me choose
six more."
"Does she think he is going to pay for them?" asked Bob.
"It doesn't matter what she thinks"; Feather laughed very prettily.
"Doesn't it?"
"Not a bit. I shall have the dresses. What's the matter, Rob? You
look quite red and cross."
"I've had a headache for three days," he answered, "and I feel
hot and cross. I don't care about a lot of things you say, Feather."
"Don't be silly," she retorted. "I don't care about a lot of things
you say--and do, too, for the matter of that."
Robert Gareth-Lawless who was sitting on a chair in her dressing-room
grunted slightly as he rubbed his red and flushed forehead.
"There's a--sort of limit," he commented. He hesitated a little
before he added sulkily "--to the things one--SAYS."
"That sounds like Alice," was her undisturbed answer. "She used
to squabble at me because I SAID things. But I believe one of
the reasons people like me is because I make them laugh by SAYING
things.
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