He looked at her. “No’s quite enough,” said he, in a tone that made her thrill with pride. “I think you are truthful.”

[93]“And I am—with you,” said she, her expression at its very best. “I’d be ashamed to lie to you. Not that I’ve always been quite—quite—painfully accurate——”

[93]

“I understand. You and I mean the same thing when we say truthful.”

“Will you come?”

“Yes. Where do you live?”

She laughed. “Why, we’re the Richmonds. Didn’t you guess?” She nodded as if a mystery had been cleared up for her. “Oh, I understand now why you’ve acted so differently from what I thought you would when you found out.”

He smiled faintly. “I suppose I ought to know. But I’m a stranger here. When I was here as a boy the city lawyers and merchants hadn’t got the habit of coming up and taking farmhouses for the summer. Are you boarding or have you a place of your own?”

She had got very red and was hanging her head. Evidently she was suffering keenly from embarrassment.

“What’s the matter, Rix?”

“I—I rather thought—after yesterday—you sort of—understood about us,” she stammered.

He laughed encouragingly. “Good Lord, don’t be a snob,” cried he. “What do I care about where you live? I don’t select my acquaintances by what’s in their[94] pockets, but by what’s in their heads. A while ago you said you were rich—and then you said you weren’t——”

[94]

“Oh, I’m all upset,” interrupted she. “Don’t mind the way I act. We live on Red Hill. The house up there belongs to father.”

“That big, French country house?” said Roger, surprised. “I’ve seen it. I’ll be glad to see it closer.” He painted a few minutes. “I suppose you put on a lot of style up there. Well, I’ve got evening clothes somewhere in my traps. I used to wear them occasionally in Paris, but not much. Paris doesn’t go in for formalities—at least, not the Paris I know.... What time’s the dinner?”

“Half past eight.”

He groaned and laughed. 

 Prev. P 54/220 next