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He glanced at the door. "No, there is no mistake," said Keith, advancing; "I am waiting for you." "For me! Waiting for me?" he demanded, mystified. "Yes. Did you not tell the waiter just now a gentleman was here? I confess you do not seem very pleased to see me." "You have read my looks correctly," said Wickersham, who was beginning to recover himself, and with it his scornful manner.
The bachelor of forty he is the happy man." "That does not help me much," said Denis. "But I'll get your wine, all the same." He went. "A nice young fellow," observed the priest. "This little accident of yours," he continued, "does not reflect itself on your face. You always look like a baby, Keith. What is your secret? I believe you have concluded a pact with the devil for your soul."
Keith upon of all subjects in the world lending library books, and finally repaired to the piano, where Grace was playing her mother's favourite music, in hopes of distracting her mind from Fanny's enormity; and there he stood, mechanically thanking Miss Curtis, but all the time turning a melancholy eye upon the game.
The regiment was then dismissed, hoarse words of command were shouted, and each troop moved off to its stable; while the colonel and Keith rode to the officers' anteroom, the trumpets at the same time sounding the officers' call. In a few minutes all were gathered there.
"Well, my son, what is the meaning of that?" Keith had never seen his father look so stern. He was holding up the card, face outward. Keith knew that the damning figures were there, and he suspected what they were, though he could see only a blurred mass of indistinct marks. With one last effort he attempted still to cling to his subterfuge. "What what is it?" he stammered.
Caldwell, who was sitting near Mrs. Wentworth. "Do you think her handsome?" Keith said he did. He thought she referred to the girl, who looked wonderfully handsome in a tailor-made gown under a big white hat. "Romance is almost dying out?" she sighed. "It is so beautiful to find it? Yes?" Keith agreed with her about its charm, but hoped it was not dying out. He thought of one romance he knew.
The main thing always remained what Dally said and did in his efforts to bring out something within the self of each boy for which only he seemed to have an eye. Keith at times felt as if he would give anything to know what Dally expected of him in particular.
I shall say 'That night on the yacht ... when I first knew what trifle meant.... They won't half get sick of it. But I shan't." "You'll like to think about it?" asked Keith. "Like to remember to-night?" "Will you?" parried Jenny. "The night you had Jenny Blanchard to supper?" Their eyes met, in a long and searching glance, in which candour was not unmixed with a kind of measuring distrust. vii
These did not seem important to either, although they treasured them up and talked them over. Then, having exhausted the topic, silence fell between them, Keith asking the privilege of lighting a cigar.
An' I can tell you that the pictures he's paintin' now with his tongue for them poor blind boys to see is bigger an' better than any pictures he could have painted with with his pigmy paints if he worked on 'em for a thousand years. An' it's YOU that's done it for him, jest by needin' him. So there!" And before Keith could so much as open his lips, Susan was gone, slamming the door behind her.
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