She put her arm around my neck, drew me to her,
and kissed me!
* * * * *
As we sat close together, a brooding silence. Then, with a transition of
thought to the practical, she remarked....
"I'm angry with these people ... they over-charge for everything."
"Just think of it--I--I feel I may speak of it to you ... we seem to
have come so near to each other to-night--"
"They brought my laundry back yesterday, and for one piece of silk
lingerie I was charged--guess?"
I couldn't imagine how much.
"Seventy-five cents--think of that!"
* * * * *
As the Eoites came tramping back from the lecture, they found us still
seated there. At the first footstep we had swiftly moved apart.
I had been half-reclining, my head in her lap, strangely soothed and
happy as she ran her fingers through my hair. For a long time neither of
us had said a word.
Now I sat apart from her, awkward and wooden.
Spalton did not speak, inclined his head icily, as he strode by.
"He's mad because I didn't come to his talk," she whispered.
"I see my finish," I replied.
* * * * *
Now, Spalton was as much in love with Dorothy, his second wife, as I
have ever known a man to be in love with a woman. But that could not
entirely exclude his jealousy over my sympathetic relation with the
"Southern Lady," as the artworkers termed her.
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