Aunt Bluebell said it was our duty to come. It is easy for
her to go out; she does not bear the burden of the conversation."
"I am sorry you find it a burden," said I. "Shall I go away?"
Miss Lammas looked at me with a sudden gravity in her beautiful
eyes, and there was a sort of hesitation about the lines of her
full, soft mouth.
"No," she said at last, quite simply, "don't go away. We may like
each other, if you stay a little longer--and we ought to, because
we are neighbors in the country."
I suppose I ought to have thought Miss Lammas a very odd girl.
There is, indeed, a sort of freemasonry between people who discover
that they live near each other and that they ought to have known
each other before. But there was a sort of unexpected frankness
and simplicity in the girl's amusing manner which would have struck
anyone else as being singular, to say the least of it. To me,
however, it all seemed natural enough. I had dreamed of her face
too long not to be utterly happy when I met her at last and could
talk to her as much as I pleased. To me, the man of ill luck in
everything, the whole meeting seemed too good to be true.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66