But it was
very good of you to sit so long at a game which I know you detest, only to
please me."
"A very small sacrifice, surely, my dear Geraldine. We'll play chess every
night, if you like. I don't care much for the game in the abstract, I
admit; but I am never tired of admiring your judicious play, or the
exquisite shape of your hands."
"No, no; I don't want to try you with such severe training. I saw how tired
you were more than once to-night, and how your eyes wandered away to those
noisy girls by the piano, like an idle boy who is kept at his lessons when
his companions are at play."
Mr. Fairfax's sunburnt countenance reddened a little at this reproof.
"Was I inattentive?" he asked; "I did not know that. I was quite aware of
my bad play, and I really believe I was conscientious."
And so they wished each other good-night and parted. Geraldine Challoner
did not go at once to her own room. She had to pass her sister's quarters
on her way, and stopped at the door of the dressing-room.
"Are you quite alone, Laura?" she asked, looking in.
"Quite alone."
A maid was busy unweaving a splendid pyramid of chestnut plaits which had
crowned the head of her mistress; but she of course counted for nothing,
and could be dismissed at any moment.
"And there will not be half-a-dozen people coming in to gossip?" Lady
Geraldine asked in rather a fretful tone, as she flung herself into an
arm-chair near the dressing-table.
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