Ashley gave it. He gave it while lighting mechanically a cigar which he
did not smoke and standing motionless in the middle of the lawn,
heedless of the glances--furtive, discreet, sympathetic, admiring--cast
at him from the windows and balconies of the surrounding houses. His
quick eye, trained to notice everything within its ken, saw them plainly
enough. The houses were not so distant nor the foliage so dense but that
kindly, neighborly interest could follow the whole drama taking place
at Tory Hill. Ashley could guess with tolerable accuracy that the ladies
whom he saw ostensibly reading or sewing on verandas had been invited to
the wedding, and were consequently now in the position of spectators at
a play. The mere detail of this American way of living, with unwalled
properties merging into one another, and doors and windows flung wide to
every passing glance, gave him an odd sense of conducting his affairs in
the market-place or on the stage. If he did not object to it, it was
because of the incitement to keep up to the level of his best which he
always drew from the knowledge that other people's eyes were upon him.
He felt this stimulus when Olivia came out to the Corinthian portico,
seating herself in a wicker chair, with an obvious invitation to him to
join her.
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