“It's wonderful what you've done for Toto, angel,” said Sally, as he came up frigidly eluding that curious animal's leaps of welcome. “He's a different dog.”
“In all the years I was at Mrs. Meecher's I never knew him move at anything more rapid than a stately walk. Now he runs about all the time.”
“The blighter had been overeating from birth,” said Ginger. “That was all that was wrong with him. A little judicious dieting put him right. We'll be able,” said Ginger brightening, “to ship him back next week.”
“I nearly missed him--this morning--with a shoe,” said Ginger. “He was up on the kitchen table wolfing the bacon, and I took steps.”
“My cave-man!” murmured Sally. “I always said you had a frightfully brutal streak in you. Ginger, what an evening!”
“Good Lord!” said Ginger suddenly, as they walked into the light of the open kitchen door.
“Do you know you're looking prettier than you were when I started down to the village!”
“Beloved!” she said. “Did you get the chops?”
“Oh, Ginger, you are an old chump. Well, you'll have to go in for a little judicious dieting, like Toto.”
“I say, I'm most awfully sorry. I got the wool.”
“Fine! But, of course, if you want chops...”
“Not at all. I'm spiritual. Besides, people say that vegetables are good for the blood-pressure or something. Of course you forgot to get the mail, too?”
“Absolutely not! I was on to it like a knife. Two letters from fellows wanting Airedale puppies.”
“Pretty bloated,” agreed Ginger complacently. “Pretty bloated. We'll be able to get that two-seater if things go buzzing on like this. There was a letter for you. Here it is.”
“It's from Fillmore,” said Sally, examining the envelope as they went into the kitchen. “And about time, too. I haven't had a word from him for months.”
She sat down and opened the letter. Ginger, heaving himself on to the table, wriggled into a position of comfort and started to read his evening paper. But after he had skimmed over the sporting page he lowered it and allowed his gaze to rest on Sally's bent head with a feeling of utter contentment.
Although a married man of nearly a year's standing, Ginger was still moving about a magic world in a state of dazed incredulity, unable fully to realize that such bliss could be. Ginger in his time had seen many things that looked good from a distance, but not one that had borne the test of a closer acquaintance--except this business of marriage.