It seems absurd to me."
"It will not seem so when you come to think of it," she replied,
gravely and gently. "You think of me still as little Madge; I am no
longer little Madge, even to myself. A woman's instincts are usually
right, Graydon."
"Oh, thank you! I am glad I am still 'Graydon.' Why do you not call me
'Mr. Muir?'"
"Because I am perfectly rational. Because I regard you as almost the
best friend I have."
"Break up that confabulation," cried Mr. Muir to the young people, who
had paused and were confronting each other at the further end of the
piazza. "If you think Madge can explain herself in a moment or a week
you are mistaken. Come to supper."
"My brother is right--you are indeed an enigma," he said,
discontentedly.
"An enigma, am I?" she responded, smiling. "Please remember that most
of the world's enigmas were slowly found out because so simple."
As they passed from the dusky piazza to the large, brilliantly lighted
supper-room, with nearly all its tables occupied, he was curious to
observe how she would meet the many critical eyes turned toward her.
Again he was puzzled as well as surprised. She walked at his side as
though the room were empty. There was no affectation of indifference,
no trace of embarrassed or of pleased self-consciousness.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134