Carron sat opposite her in a low chair smoking cigarettes. It was just
four o'clock.
"I suppose she'll curse me out for being here," Carron began suddenly,
feeling that he deserved, after his hasty excursion into the churchyard
of his ancient love, a short indulgence in his present feelings; "she's
a good hater, that girl of yours."
"Yes, she has a very nasty temper. Now I, with all my
faults"--(pause)--"with all my faults, never could stay angry more than
five minutes. Besides, I was always so sensitive."
"Yes; oh, yes! What train does she come by, did you say?"
"The 4.27. Perhaps you'd like to go and meet her?"
He laughed, his blue eyes narrowing. "Thanks, no. And the others?"
"Oh, _I_ don't know. The list is there at your elbow. You are dull
to-day, Gerald."
"I know I am. I think I'm in for an attack of flue, or something; feel
shivery and all-overish. And I think you might be able to understand my
hating to have your daughter make such a horrible _mesalliance_, Tony."
She was touched with the pathetic facility for being touched common to
fading beauties. Rising, she laid her pretty hand on his shoulder.
"Poor darling, I am sorry I was cross.
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