She was no
longer the stately-looking woman in the Paris gown and picture hat,
who had moved with such a queenly step among her guests. This was a
far homelier Elizabeth, in the old striped blouse and battered
garden hat, only this morning Malcolm found no fault with it. He was
very silent for some time, but as he leant back in the dog-cart with
folded arms and closely compressed lips, there was a glow in his
dark eyes that somewhat contradicted his outward calmness.
"And you are going down to the Manor House on Thursday," observed
Cedric, as they came in sight of the station. "What a pity my Henley
visit is put off till the following week, or we might have had a
good old time together."
"Oh, I don't know," rather absently; "you will be too much taken up
with your new friends to want an old stager like me."
"You are wrong there," returned the lad eagerly. "I should be glad
to have your opinion of"--he hesitated, and then finished lamely,
"of the Jacobis, I mean. You are such a judge of character, and all
that sort of thing."
"Am I?" with a smile; but they had no time to say more, as the
London train was signalled.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280