Eve rose to her feet and came across to me. She was wearing a charming
morning gown of some light blue material, with large buttons, tight-
fitting, alluring; and there was a little quiver of her lips, a
provocative gleam in her eyes, which I found perfectly maddening.
"I think we won't come, thank you," she decided.
"Why not?"
"You see," she explained, "I am rather afraid. We might get you into no
end of trouble with some of your most particular friends. There are one or
two people, you know, in London, especially among the Americans, who might
say the unkindest things about us."
"No one, my dear Eve," I assured her stolidly, "shall say anything to me
or to any one else about my future wife."
For a moment her expression was almost hopeless. She shook her head.
"I don't know what to do with him, daddy!" she exclaimed, turning toward
her father in despair.
"I'm afraid you'll have to marry him if he goes on," Mr. Parker declared
gloomily; "that is," he added, as though he had suddenly perceived a ray
of hope about the matter, "unless we should by any chance get into trouble
first."
"Meantime," I ventured, "we will dine at eight o'clock at the Milan."
Mr. Parker groaned.
"At the Milan!" he echoed.
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