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Widdemer, Margaret, 1884-1978

"The Wishing-Ring Man"

He was evidently
thoroughly angry, for he scarcely spoke, even when he found them.
"See here, Hewitt," Clarence protested. "You aren't doing the thing
at all properly. You should say, 'My own! At last I have found you!'
instead of backing up the car with a short sentence like that."
What John had said, as a matter of fact, was, "Get in the car. It's late."
He did come to a little at Clarence's flippant reminder, and smiled
reluctantly.
"Well, you see, it was self-evident. I _had_ found you both. You
oughtn't to have walked so far if you didn't know where you were going."
"It is also self-evident that it is late," said Clarence stiffly,
and, it must be confessed, a little sulkily. "Nevertheless, we're
having a very pleasant time.... Is dinner over?"
John, for no apparent reason, smiled frankly at this. "Not in the
least," he said. "They are waiting dinner till the prodigals'
return. My mother has had hers sent up to her, but Gail and your
friend Tiddy are kindly keeping the rest of it hot."
It is a quicker journey in a car than when you stroll leisurely
along, discussing light opera and your disposition. They were
surprised to find how near, comparatively, they were, to the village.
"Joy, do you suppose I am invited to dinner?" asked Clarence in a
stage whisper. "If it is not thus I shall probably starve by the
roadside, because Gail sent her mother to a bridge-and-high-tea
before she went, and the maids there had no orders about food.


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