Why, they might think he had been ashamed of Phoebe!--that there was some reason for hiding her away.

It was ridiculous--most annoying and absurd; but now that the thing had happened, he must really choose his own moment for unravelling the coil.
So he stammered something unintelligible about a 'Westmoreland type,' and then hastily led the talk to some other schemes he had in mind.
With the sense of having escaped a danger he found his tongue for the first time, and the power of expressing himself.
Madame de Pastourelles listened attentively--drew him out, indeed--made him show himself to the best advantage.

And presently, at a moment of pause, she said, with a smile and a shrug, 'How happy you are to have an art! Now I--' She let her hand fall with a little plaintive movement.
'I am sure you paint,' said Fenwick, eagerly.
'No.' 'Then you are musical ?' 'Not at all.

I embroider--' 'All women should,' said Fenwick, trying for a free and careless air.
'I read--' 'You do not need to say it.' She opened her eyes at this readiness of reply; but still pursued: 'And I have a Chinese pug.' 'And no children ?' The words rose to Fenwick's lips, but remained unspoken.

Perhaps she divined them, for she began hastily to describe her dog--its tricks and fidelities.