'Does she paint ?' he asked, so apprehensively that I could not forbear a smile at Dora's expense.

I could assure him that she did not paint, that she had not painted, at all events, for years, and presently I found myself in the ridiculous position of using argument to bring a young man to the Harrises.

In the end I prevailed, I know, out of sheer good nature on Armour's part; he was as innocent as a baby of any sense of opportunity.
We arranged it for the following Friday, but as luck would have it, His Excellency sent for me at the very hour; we met the messenger.

I felt myself unlucky, but there was nothing for it but that Armour should go alone, which he did, with neither diffidence nor alacrity, but as if it were all in the day's work, and he had no reason to be disobliging.
The files were very heavy during the succeeding fortnight, and the Viceroy quite importunate in his demand for my valuable suggestions.
I was worked off my legs, and two or three times was obliged to deny myself in replying to notes from Dora suggesting Sunday breakfast or afternoon tea.

Finally, I shook myself free; it was the day she wrote: 'You must come--I can't keep it to myself any longer.' I half thought Armour would be there, but he wasn't; that is, he was absent corporeally, but the spirit and expression of him littered every convenient part.