"I don't mind 'em," Gammon continued. "Rather proud of 'em. If
anybody asks me how I got the scratches--"
The girl looked sharply at him.
"Do you mean to say you'd tell? Well, if you call that
gentlemanly--"
"Wouldn't tell the truth, Polly, not for as many kisses as there are
scratches, my dear."
Polly bridled--young women of her class still bridle--but looked
rather pleased. And Gammon chuckled to himself, thinking that all
went well.
The rain came, but for all that they had a day of enjoyment, spent
chiefly in an arbour, not quite rainproof, on the skittle-ground
behind the "Blue Anchor" at Hendon. Continuous was the popping of
corks, and frequent were the outbursts of hilarity. Polly did not
abandon her reserve with Mr. Gammon; now and then she condescended
to smile at his sallies of wit, whereas she screamed at a joke from
others. The landlord of the "Blue Anchor" was a widower of about
thirty, and had some claims to be considered a lady's man; to him
Polly directed her friendly looks and remarks with a freedom which
could not but excite attention.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151