At the moment the car was certainly not running
as fast as it had been doing twenty rods back; it went by at a pace
moderate enough to show the pair to each other with distinctness.
Roberta saw clearly Richard Kendrick's intent eyes upon her, saw the
flash of his smile and the grace of his bow, and saw--as if written upon
the blue spring sky--the word he had left with her, "Midsummer." If he
had shouted it at her as he passed, it could not have challenged her
more definitely.
He was obeying her literally--more literally than she could have
demanded. Not to slow down, come to a standstill beside her, exchange at
least a few words of greeting--this was indeed a strict interpretation
of her edict. Evidently he meant to play the game rigorously. Still, he
had been a compellingly attractive figure as he passed; that instant's
glimpse of him was likely to remain with her quite as long as a more
protracted interview. Did he guess that?
"I wonder how I looked?" was her first thought as she walked on--a
purely feminine one, it must be admitted. When she reached home she
glanced at herself in the hall mirror on her way upstairs--a thing she
seldom took the trouble to do.
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