Harrington, too, had made friends
with her without minding. But she was conscientious, and she felt
she ought to go on with her errand before she really gave herself up
to the enjoyment of her call.
"My grandfather is giving a reading from his works this evening,"
she said, sitting up mechanically and crossing her hands, "and he
sent me to say that he would be glad if you and Mr. Harrington would
care to come."
"We'd love to," Phyllis answered on the spot. "At his cottage?"
Joy nodded.
"It's fun," Phyllis went on, "leading this semidetached life, with
no responsibilities whatever. There's only one drawback as far as
I'm concerned; if Philip strays off too far somebody may take him
for a rabbit or a deer. The places where there's hunting are only
two miles away. That's why Allan and I were scouring the woods last
night for him. Usually we let him run away as much as he likes, and
the poor child can't understand the new arrangement."
Joy looked down at Philip, who had curled himself into an
indiscriminate heap with the dog, and was taking a nap by way of
whiling away his imprisonment.
"Do you hunt?" she asked.
Phyllis shook her head.
"The way the gun bangs when it goes off worries me. I believe
there's a bangless gun, but even so, you're expected to kill things,
and I think the things are much happier alive. I don't even like the
taste of them cooked. But Allan hunts. He brings game-bags full of
poor little dead things back whenever he's where he can do it.
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