"I noticed it in the upper hall last night," went on the secretary,
innocently. "It was pervasive, but at the same time so delicate, so
elusive, that I couldn't determine what it was. I am very sensitive
to perfumes."
"So are we," Alicia told him. "And if what you think you smelled is
what we think we smell, it isn't a--a regular perfume. It's a--a--a
something that belongs to Hynds House."
The library was flooded with the ruddy light of sunset. Every bit of
color in the big room stood out against a golden background, and a
great golden spear fell across the dark, brooding face of Freeman
Hynds above the old tiled fireplace. In that rosy glow he seemed to
look down at us with living eyes.
"Is that so?" The secretary stopped; and his head went up and his
nose wrinkled. For the "something that belonged to Hynds House"
walked upon the air with invisible feet.
CHAPTER VIII
PEACOCKS AND IVORY
"Sophy, do you remember the night we talked it over, and decided to
come here, and you were afraid of the new soil's effect upon
yourself?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Oh, because."
"Because why?"
"Just because.--I wish to gracious you had a little saving vanity,
Sophy Smith!"
"And what, then, is _this_?" I asked ironically, and rustled my
skirts.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155