It was just what she wanted, an opportunity to think over what
Philip had said. And she was fond of motoring alone, and an
experienced driver. She went slowly at first, enjoying the beautiful
country with its serene air of Sunday afternoon calm.
The trend of her thoughts was not a question of whether or not she
should accept Van Reypen; but more a dreamy recollection and living
over the scene at the Falls.
She pictured in her mind how really noble and handsome he looked,
and she almost wondered at herself why she had only a friendly
feeling toward him.
"But I like him better than Kenneth," she assured herself; "that is,
I like him MORE than I do Kenneth. Ken is an old dear, but he IS
slow; and Philip has all the nice ways and mannerisms that I do like
in a man. He's always equal to any occasion, without any effort.
He's just born so. He's an aristocrat like his aunt, but he hasn't a
bit of her,--well,--it is really a kind of snobbishness. She's
intolerant of people not in her own set. But Phil is kind and
courteous to everybody. And he has a sense of humour. I suppose
that's what's the matter with Ken. The poor boy hasn't a spark of
fun in him except what I've banged into his blessed old head.
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