There was in his voice a sound of warm yet almost childlike enthusiasm, with which she was becoming very familiar.
"Yes, marvellous. Oh, there's the dog again! Sh--sh--sh!"
"I'll come down and drive it away."
In a moment he was with her.
"Where is the little beast?"
"It's gone again. I frightened it. Oh, you've brought me a cloak, you thoughtful person."
She turned for him to put it round her, and as he began to do so, as he touched her arms and shoulders, his eyes shone and his brown cheeks slightly reddened. Then his expression changed; he seemed to repress, to beat back something; he drew her down into a chair, and quietly sat down by her. The Nubian came with coffee, and went softly away, smiling.
Mrs. Armine poured out the coffee, and Nigel lit his cigar.
"Turkish coffee for my lord and master!" she said, pushing a cup towards him over the little table. "I think I must learn how to make it."
He was gazing at her as he stretched out his hand to take it.
"Do you feel at home here, Ruby?" he asked her.
"It's such a very short time, you dear enquirer," she answered. "Remember I haven't closed an eye here yet. But I'm sure I shall feel at home. And what about you?"
"I scarcely know what I feel."
He sipped the coffee slowly.
"It's such a tremendous change," he continued. "And I've been alone so long. Of course, I've got lots of friends, but still I've often felt very lonely, as you have, Ruby, haven't you?"
"I've seldom felt anything else," she replied.
"But to-night--?"
"Oh, to-night--everything's different to-night. I wonder--"
She paused. She was leaning back in her chair, with her head against a cushion, looking at him with a slight, half-ironical smile in her eyes and at the corners of her lips.
"I wonder," she continued, "what Meyer Isaacson will think."
"Of our marriage?"
"Yes. Do you suppose it will surprise him?"
"I--no, I hardly think it will."
"You didn't hint it to him, did you?"
"I said nothing about any marriage, but he knew something of my feeling for you."
"All the same, I think he'll be surprised. When shall we get the first post from England telling us the opinion of the dear, kind, generous-hearted world?"
"Ruby, who cares what any one thinks or says?"
"Men often don't credit us with it, but we women, as a rule, are horribly sensitive, more sensitive than you can imagine. I--how I wish that some day your people would try to like me!"
He took one of her hands in his.