Even a gentle curve made it more
gracious if less admirable from the dancing-mistress point of view.
"Honour!" she interjected rapidly, like a schoolboy.
The doctor looked up at her and a smile came to his lips. And as he
looked up he noticed the neatness of her black gown, the simplicity of
her hat, the absence of paint and powder. Being, after all, only a man,
he was surprised at Cuckoo's appearance of propriety. The four ladies had
been surprised at her appearance of impropriety. But the doctor, seeing
her so much better than usual, thought her--in looks--quite well, as
indeed she was in comparison with the _tout ensemble_ of her usual days.
He looked from her black gloves, which held the thick black veil, to the
winter sunshine sparkling, like a dancing, eager child, at the window.
"Do you like driving?" he said.
"What?"
"Driving--do you like it?"
"Pretty well, if the horse don't come down," said Cuckoo, at once
concentrated on cabs.
"My horses won't."
"Yours!"
"Yes. I have no more patients to-day. I have a half-holiday and I want to
talk to you. Shall we go for a drive to Hampstead and talk out in the
open air and the sunshine?"
The four ladies, the illustrateds, the cough, dry as Sahara, were
instantly forgotten.
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