Now he felt himself a man of affairs, could not even have a quiet supper
with his family without the outside world demanding him. He waved his
hand to indicate it was nothing which they would know anything about,
resumed his seat, served himself to a second spoon of salmon and
remarked, "More roast duck, anybody?" in a loud voice and with a slow
wink at his wife. That lady at first looked blank, as she always did in
the presence of any humour couched with the least indirection, and then
drew back her chin and caught her lower lip in her gold-filled teeth.
This was her conjugal rebuking.

Swedenborg always uses "conjugial." And really this sounds more married.
It should be used with reference to the Deacons. No one was ever more
married than they--at least than Mr. Deacon. He made little conjugal
jokes in the presence of Lulu who, now completely unnerved by the habit,
suspected them where they did not exist, feared lurking _entendre_ in
the most innocent comments, and became more tense every hour of her
life.

And now the eye of the master of the house fell for the first time upon
the yellow tulip in the centre of his table.

"Well, _well_!" he said. "What's this?"

Ina Deacon produced, fleetly, an unlooked-for dimple.

"Have you been buying flowers?" the master inquired.

"Ask Lulu," said Mrs. Deacon.

He turned his attention full upon Lulu.