And last
night, whilst she had been thinking of it, came this note from Brooks
asking if he might come to tea. She had been ashamed of herself ever
since. It was maddening that she should sit waiting for his coming like
a blushing schoolgirl--the colour ready enough to stream into her face
at the sound of his footstep.
He came at last--a surprise in more ways than one. For he had abandoned
the blue serge and low hat of his daily life, and was attired in frock
coat and silk hat--his tie and collar of a new fashion, even his bearing
altered--at least so it seemed to her jealous observation. He was
certainly looking better. There was colour in his pale cheeks, and his
eyes were bright once more with the joy of life. Her dark eyes took
merciless note of these things, and then found seeing at all a little
difficult.
"My dear Mary," he exclaimed, cheerfully--he had fallen into the way of
calling her Mary lately "this is delightful of you to be in. Do you
know that I am really holiday-making?"
"Well," she answered, smiling, "I imagined that you were not on your way
eastwards.
Pages:
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374