"Your type, you know, dearest, is—is not conventionally religious. You are most beautiful, but——"
"I would do very well, I suppose, for the Woman taken in Adultery!"
"I have never seen you like this before."
"Perhaps not. Thank God, I don't sit with my mouth screwed in one perpetual simper, looking religious, and wondering whether my new gowns will fit! I want you to understand that I have got a soul! and a mind! and individuality!"
He sighed and returned to his playing; but there was no spirit in his performance.
"You are not to tell Margaret of our marriage," said Sophia, suddenly; "when I get ready, I will tell her myself."
He flushed again, and this time more decidedly. Unfortunately, he had informed her ladyship of his happy condition that very afternoon—in a burst or friendly confidence—after she had promised to sit for the Madonna. Could the circumstances be more awkward?
"Do you think she suspects?" said Sophia. But women have a fatal genius for answering their own questions. Before her husband could reply she went on, "I do not see how she can; I have always been very careful."
"Sophia," he began, intending to make a clean breast of the matter, "the fact is——"
She stamped her foot—a beautiful foot, too, another artistic joy. "I loathe facts; I will have my own way about it. You promised me that I could keep it a secret as long as I wished."