Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/280

272 “How should I know.”

“If course not, old fellow. Leave it to the girls. See how knowing Lettie looks—and, laws, Lettie, you are solemn.”

“It’s love,” suggested George, over his new neck-tie.

“I’ll bet it is ‘degustasse sat est’— ain’t it, Lettie? ‘One lick’s enough’—‘and damned be he that first cries: Hold, enough!’— Which one do you like? But are you going to take us to church, Georgie, darling—one by one, or all at once?”

“What do you want me to do, Meg?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

“And do you mind, Lettie?”

“I’m not going to church.”

“Let’s go a walk somewhere—and let us start now,” said Emily somewhat testily. She did not like this nonsense.

“There you are Syb—you’ve got your orders—don’t leave me behind,” wailed Alice.

Emily frowned and bit her finger.

“Come on, Georgie. You look like the finger of a pair scales—between two weights. Which’ll draw?”

“The heavier,” he replied, smiling, and looking neither at Meg or Lettie.

“Then it’s Meg,” cried Alice. “Oh, I wish I was fleshy—I’ve no chance with Syb against Pem.”

Emily flashed looks of rage; Meg blushed and felt ashamed; Lettie began to recover from her first outraged indignation, and smiled.

Thus we went a walk, in two trios.

Unfortunately, as the evening was so fine, the