Part 31 (2/2)

Extending her hand to him she said, and he was never to forget the deep thrill in her voice:

”Well, I wish you good luck, Leslie. Don't take no for an answer.”

”Lord, if she SHOULD say no,” he gasped, confronted by the possibility of such stupidity on Hetty's part. ”You don't think she will?”

Her answer was a smile of doubt, the effect of which was to destroy his tranquillity for hours.

”It is time for luncheon. I suppose we'll have to interrupt them.

Perhaps it is just as well, for your sake,” she said tauntingly.

He grinned, but it was a sickly effort.

”You're the one to spoil anything of that sort,” he said, with some ascerbity.

”I?”

”Certainly,” he said with so much meaning in the word that she flushed.

”Oh, I see,” she mused, with understanding. ”Can't you trust Vivian to do that for you?” There was intense irony in the question.

He laughed disdainfully. ”Vivvy wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance with you, take it from me.” He stopped abruptly at the doorway, a frown of recollection creasing his seamless brow. ”Oh, that reminds me, there is something else I want to discuss with you, Sara. After luncheon will be time enough. Remind me of it, will you?”

”Not if it is to be unpleasant,” she replied, with a sudden chill in her heart.

”It's this, in a word: Viv would like to have Miss Castleton over to spend a month or so with her after the--well, after the house is open.” He came near to saying after the engagement was announced.

Sara's decision was made at once. Her face hardened.

”That is quite out of the question, Leslie,” she said.

”We can discuss it, can't we?” he demanded loftily.

She did not condescend to reply. They were now in the wide hallway, and she was a step or two ahead of him. Voices could be heard in the recess at the lower end of the hall, beyond the staircase, engaged in what appeared to be a merry exchange of opinions. He caught the sound of a low laugh from Booth. There was something acutely subdued about it, as if a warning had been whispered by some one. Leslie's sensitive imagination pictured the unseen girl with her finger to her lips.

He caught up with Sara, and, curiously red in the face, snapped out with dogged insistence:

”Mother is set on having her come, Sara. Can't you see the way the land lays? They--”

Hetty and Booth came into view at that instant, and his lips were closed. The painter was laying a soft, filmy scarf over the girl's bare shoulders as he followed close behind her.

”h.e.l.lo!” he cried, catching sight of Wrandall. ”Train late, old chap? We've been expecting you for the last hour. How are you?”

He came up with a frank, genuine smile of pleasure on his lips, his hand extended. Leslie rose to the occasion. His self-esteem was larger than his grievance. He shook Booth's hand heartily, almost exuberantly.

”Didn't want to disturb you, Brandy,” he cried, cheerily. ”Besides, Sara wouldn't let me.” He then pa.s.sed on to Hetty, who had lagged behind. Bending low over her hand, he said something commonplace in a very low tone, at the same time looking slyly out of the corner of his eye to see if Booth was taking it all in. Finding that his friend was regarding him rather fixedly, he obeyed a sudden impulse and raised the girl's slim hand to his lips. As suddenly he released her fingers and straightened up with a look of surprise in his eyes; he had distinctly heard the agitated catch in her throat. She was staring at her hand in a stupefied sort of way, holding it rigid before her eyes for a moment before thrusting it behind her back as if it were a thing to be s.h.i.+elded from all scrutiny save her own.

”You must not kiss it again, Mr. Wrandall,” she said in a low, intense voice. Then she pa.s.sed him by and hurried up the stairs, without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

He blinked in astonishment. All of a sudden there swept over him the unique sensation of shyness--most unique in him. He had never been abashed before in all his life. Now he was curiously conscious of having overstepped the bounds, and for the first time to be shown his place by a girl. This to him, who had no scruples about boundary lines!

All through luncheon he was volatile and gay. There was a bright spot in his cheek, however, that betrayed him to Sara, who already suspected the temper of his thoughts. He talked aeroplaning without cessation, directing most of his conversation to Booth, yet thrilled with pleasure each time Hetty laughed at his sallies. He was beginning to feel like a half-baked schoolboy in her presence, a most deplorable state of affairs he had to admit.

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