When he flung himself off beside her,
she saw at once that he had come in an exultant mood expecting triumph.
And immediately something perverse in her--or was it merely the old
primeval instinct of the pursued maiden--set itself to baffle him.
"Very nice to see you!" she smiled, as she gave him a passive hand--"but
why aren't you in the Mall?"
"My Sovereign had not expressed any burning desire for my presence. Can't
we go to-night and feed a bonfire?"
"Several, if you like. I have watched the building of three. But it
will rain."
"That won't matter," he said joyously. "Nothing will matter!" And again
his ardent look challenged in her the Eternal Feminine.
"I don't agree. I hate a wet mackintosh dripping into my boots, and
Cousin Philip won't see any fun in it if it rains."
He drew up suddenly.
"Philip!" he said, with a frown of irritation. "What has Philip to
do with it?"
"He arrives to-night by the London train."
He resumed his walk beside her, in silence, pushing his bicycle. Had
she done it of malice prepense? No--impossible! He had only
telegraphed his own movements to her late on the previous evening,
much too late to make any sudden arrangement with Philip, who was
coming from an Eastern county.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364