There was indeed no perceptible difference. She leaned back in her
favorite chair with an air of relief, as though she were tired of
visitors.
"Now let us talk about the _fete_, Norman," she said. "You are the only
one I care to talk with about my neighbors."
So for half an hour they discussed the _fete_, the dresses, the music,
the different flirtations--Philippa in her usual bright, laughing,
half-sarcastic fashion, with the keen sense of humor that was peculiar
to her. Lord Arleigh could not see that there was any effort in her
conversation; he could not see the least shadow on her brightness; and
at heart he was thankful.
When he was going away, she asked him about riding on the morrow just as
usual. He could not see the slightest difference in her manner. That
unpleasant little conversation on the lake might never have taken place
for all the remembrance of it that seemed to trouble her. Then, when he
rose to take his leave, she held out her hand with a bright, amused
expression.
"Good-night, _Petruchio_," she said. "I am pleased at the name I have
found for you."
"I am not so sure that it is appropriate," he rejoined.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144