"Really, Austin, you carry matters with too long a beard," Adrian
objected. "Don't you care what you eat?" he roared hoarsely, looking
humorously hurt. "I daresay not. A slice out of him that's handy--sauce
du ciel! Go, batten on the baby, cannibal. Dinner at seven."

Adrian gave him his own address, and Lucy's, and strolled off to do the
better thing.

Overnight Mrs. Berry had observed a long stranger in her tea-cup.
Posting him on her fingers and starting him with a smack, he had vaulted
lightly and thereby indicated that he was positively coming the next day.
She forgot him in the bustle of her duties and the absorption of her
faculties in thoughts of the incomparable stranger Lucy had presented to
the world, till a knock at the street-door reminded her. "There he is!"
she cried, as she ran to open to him. "There's my stranger come!" Never
was a woman's faith in omens so justified. The stranger desired to see
Mrs. Richard Feverel. He said his name was Mr. Austin Wentworth. Mrs.
Berry clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Come at last!" and ran bolt out of
the house to look up and down the street. Presently she returned with
many excuses for her rudeness, saying: "I expected to see her comin'
home, Mr. Wentworth. Every day twice a day she go out to give her
blessed angel an airing. No leavin' the child with nursemaids for her!
She is a mother! and good milk, too, thank the Lord! though her heart's
so low."

Indoors Mrs. Berry stated who she was, related the history of the young
couple and her participation in it, and admired the beard. "Although I'd
swear you don't wear it for ornament, now!" she said, having in the first
impulse designed a stroke at man's vanity.