"Well," Mrs. Wilson said, after she had argued with him a little, "you
have retained the clerical obstinacy, whatever else you've given up. I
am not in the habit of pressing my guests to stay if they are tired of
my society. If you choose to go, of course you will go."
"Oh, it is not that I am tired of your society," poor Maurice put in
eagerly.
"If I were a man," his hostess went on, "I never would let a woman see
that I minded how she treated me. You'd soon have her coming down from
her high horse if you showed her that you didn't care."
Maurice flushed painfully. It was impossible for him to talk to Mrs.
Wilson about his feeling for Berenice.
"I am afraid that I had better go," he said, with eyes abased.
She regarded him with a mixture of impatience and amusement struggling
in her face.
"By all means go," she retorted. "I'll tell Patrick to be at the door
in time to take you to the three o'clock train."
She swept away rather brusquely, leaving him disconsolate and uneasy.
He felt that he had bungled matters; but before he had time to consider
Berenice appeared, and joined him on the piazza.
Pages:
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544