There was something
unnatural even in this sudden move toward friendship.
"It's ungenerous, ungentlemanly," Roy protested to himself; but somehow
the feeling persisted that Fanning was not to be trusted.
"How prettily you do your hair," Peggy was remarking to Regina Mortlake in
the meantime.
She looked with genuine admiration at the glossy black waves which the
other had drawn back over her ears in the French style.
"Oh, do you like it?" asked Regina eagerly, "I think its hideous. But you
know I lost one of my combs and--but let's go and see what the boys are
doing," she broke off suddenly, turning crimson and hastening to the
porch. Once outside she plunged at once into conversation with the two
boys, and Peggy had no opportunity of picking up the dropped stitches of
conversation. She caught herself puzzling over it. Why had Regina been so
mortified, and apparently alarmed, when she had announced the loss of one
of her side-combs? Right there a strange thought came into Peggy's mind.
The brilliant-studded comb that Roy had picked up! Could it be that--but
no, the idea was too fantastic. In the pages of a book, perhaps, but not
in real life. And yet--and yet--Peggy, as she watched the graceful,
dark-eyed girl talking with splendid animation, found herself
wondering--and wondering.
The next day, just as Peggy and Roy were starting out for a run to the
Bancroft place, Fanning Harding and Regina Mortlake came whizzing up to
the gate in the latter's big touring car--the one in which she had arrived
in Sandy Beach.
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