It was half an hour to the
minute since he had left his hotel.
"I don't see why it should take women a long time to shop," said he to
himself. "It seems to me the simplest thing in the world. You just see
what you want, and then you buy it."
It was not until all the boxes and parcels must have arrived in the
Condamine, that an agonizing thought struck Hugh. What if Evie should be
offended with him for buying her things to wear? What if she should
imagine him capable of thinking that the things she already had were not
good enough when she was coming out with him?
He suddenly felt a hundred years old. "Ass--worm--menagerie!" he
anathematized himself.
It was now nine thirty. At ten forty-five he was to call at the Hotel
Pension Beau Soleil, to take Evelyn and Rosemary to the English church.
How could he bear the suspense till then,--how endure it not to know
whether he had ruined the Christmas which was to have been so perfect?
He dashed into his own hotel, wrote five notes one after the other,
tearing up each one before it was finished. It was no good explaining.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92