"Come along," said I.

"You're a perfect lamb," said she.

Before the perfect lamb was led to the peach slaughter, he looked again
across the lawn. Colonel Lackaday had moved his chair very close to Lady
Auriol's wicker lounge, so that facing her, his head was but a couple
of feet from hers. They talked not so much animatedly as intimately.
Lackaday's face I could not see, his back being turned to me; I saw Lady
Auriol's eyes wide, full of earnest interest, and compassionate admiration.
I had no idea that her eyes could melt to such softness. It was a
revelation. No woman ever looked at a man like that, unless she was
an accomplished syren, without some soul-betrayal. I am a _vieux
routier_, an old campaigner in this world of men and women. Time was
when--but that has nothing to do with this story. At any rate I think I
ought to know something about women's eyes.

"Did you ever see anything so idiotic?" asked Evadne, dragging me round.

"I think I did once," said I.

"When was that?"

"Ah!" said I.

"Do tell me, Uncle Tony."

I, who have seen things far more idiotic a thousand times, racked my brain
for an answer that would satisfy the child.