too. Mustn’t it be terrible to have a face like that?” 

 “It must indeed,” said Jack; “I can think of but one thing worse.” 

 “What?” 

 “To marry a face like that.” 

 She laughed again. 

 “You’re cruel,” she declared; “after all her face isn’t her fortune, so what does it matter?” 

 “It doesn’t matter at all to me,” said Jack. “I know of very few things that can matter less to me than Miss Lorne’s face.” 

 “Now, you’re cruel again; and she was so nice to you too. Absolutely, I don’t believe that the edges of her smile came together once while she was talking to you last night.” 

 “Did you spy on us to that extent?” said Jack. “I wouldn’t have believed it of you.” 

 “Oh, I’m very awful,” she said airily. “You’ll be more surprised the farther you penetrate into the wilderness of my ways.” 

 “And when will I have a chance to plunge into the jungle, do you think?” 

 “Any Saturday or Sunday that you happen to be in town.” 

 “Are you going to live in town?” 

 “For a while. I’ve taken a house until the beginning of July. I expect some friends over, and I want to entertain them.” 

 Jack felt the sky above become refulgent. He was in the habit of spending every Saturday night in the city—he and Burnett together. 

 “May I come as often as I like?” he asked. 

 “Certainly,” said she; “because you know if you should come too often I can tell the man at the door to say I’m ‘not at home’ to you.” 

 “But if he ever says: ‘She’s not at home to you,’ I shall walk right in and fall upon the man that you are being at home to just then.” 

 “But he is a very large man,” said Mrs. Rosscott 

 Prev. P 29/184 next