"
Harwood pressed his thumb into his pipe-bowl and puffed in silence for a
moment. Allen, satisfied that he had at last caught his friend's
attention, fanned himself furiously with his hat.
"Well," said Dan finally, "there's nothing so staggering in that.
Sylvia's been staying at the lake: I suppose Mrs. Bassett must have
asked her to go up and bring Marian home when the papers screamed her
daughter's name in red ink. I understand that Mrs. Bassett's ill, and I
suppose Bassett didn't like to leave her. There's nothing fuddlesome in
that. Sylvia probably did the job well. She has the habit. What is there
that troubles you about it, Allen?"
His heart had warmed at the mention of Sylvia, and he felt more kindly
toward Allen now that she had flashed across his vision. Many times a
day he found Sylvia looking up at him from the pages of his books; this
fresh news brought her near. Sylvia's journey to Chicago argued an
intimacy with the Bassetts that he did not reconcile with his knowledge
of her acquaintance with the family. He was aroused by the light touch
of Allen's hand on his knee. The young man bent toward him with a
bright light in his eyes.
"You know," he said, "Marian and I are engaged!"
"You're what?" bellowed Dan.
"We're engaged, old man; we're engaged! It happened there at the
Willings'. You know I think I loved her from the very first time I saw
her! It's the beautifullest thing that ever came into my life.
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