"You often tell me I don't notice things," he remarked.
"Tell me if this is a white hair, then?" she replied. She laid the hair
on his hand.
"There's not a white hair on your head," he exclaimed.
"Ah, Ridley, I begin to doubt," she sighed; and bowed her head under
his eyes so that he might judge, but the inspection produced only a kiss
where the line of parting ran, and husband and wife then proceeded to
move about the room, casually murmuring.
"What was that you were saying?" Helen remarked, after an interval of
conversation which no third person could have understood.
"Rachel--you ought to keep an eye upon Rachel," he observed
significantly, and Helen, though she went on brushing her hair, looked
at him. His observations were apt to be true.
"Young gentlemen don't interest themselves in young women's education
without a motive," he remarked.
"Oh, Hirst," said Helen.
"Hirst and Hewet, they're all the same to me--all covered with spots,"
he replied. "He advises her to read Gibbon. Did you know that?"
Helen did not know that, but she would not allow herself inferior to her
husband in powers of observation. She merely said:
"Nothing would surprise me. Even that dreadful flying man we met at the
dance--even Mr. Dalloway--even--"
"I advise you to be circumspect," said Ridley. "There's Willoughby,
remember--Willoughby"; he pointed at a letter.
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