The old house, most beautiful, looked, among its surrounding
trees, secluded and protected.
"It looks like a home," thought the girl bitterly.
And then young Joyselle joined her.
"May I come? Shall I bother you?"
"You may come; and you never bother me."
His youthful face was pleasant to look at; the dominating expression of
it was one of sunny sweetness. Would Tommy grow to be as nice a young
man?
Tommy, that old person, was, she knew, perched astride a chair near the
Bridge table, picking up, with uncanny shrewdness, all sorts of tips
about the great game, as he picked up knowledge about everything that
came his way. Up to this, his varied stock of information had not hurt
him. Later--who could tell?
"Where is Tommy?" she asked miserably.
"Watching the Bridge. Why are you unhappy?" His dark eyes were bent
imploringly on hers. "I--I can't bear to see you suffer."
"Oh, _mon Dieu, je ne souffre pas_! That is saying far too much. I----"
"Was it Pontefract?"
"No, oh, no. Ponty and I are very good friends," she returned absently.
And then she remembered. She was going to marry Ponty!
"Let's walk to the sun-dial and see what time it is by the moon," she
suggested abruptly.
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