"What did you say to her?" he asked.
"Sylvia? Oh, what you told me," replied Ann. "That you had come to
New York to--to look for her."
"What did she say?" he asked.
"Said you'd taken your time about it," retorted Ann.
Matthew looked up with an injured expression.
"It was her own idea that we should never meet," he explained.
"Um!" Ann grunted.
"What do you think yourself she will be like?" she continued. "Have
you formed any notion?"
"It is curious," he replied. "I have never been able to conjure up
any picture of her until just now."
"Why 'just now'?" demanded Ann.
"I had an idea I should find her here when I opened the door," he
answered. "You were standing in the shadow. It seemed to be just
what I had expected."
"You would have been satisfied?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
There was silence for a moment.
"Uncle Ab made a mistake," he continued. "He ought to have sent me
away. Let me come home now and then."
"You mean," said Ann, "that if you had seen less of me you might
have liked me better?"
"Quite right," he admitted. "We never see the things that are
always there."
"A thin, gawky girl with a bad complexion," she suggested. "Would
it have been of any use?"
"You must always have been wonderful with those eyes," he answered.
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