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"It would have been more proper if WE had had the company. Why didn't you come after us, instead of sitting there?" she asked of Mr. Ruck's companion. "I was told by your father," I explained, "that you were engaged in sacred rites." Miss Ruck was not gracious, though I doubt whether it was because her conscience was better than her mother's.
I must do both these ladies the justice to mention that neither of them made the least little "scene." "I have come for you, dearest," said the mother. "Yes, dear mamma." "Come for you come for you," Mrs. Church repeated, looking down at the relics of our little feast. "I was obliged to ask Mr. Ruck's assistance. I was puzzled; I thought a long time." "Well, Mrs.
Mother and I said to him that if he was restless in Paris he needn't hope for peace anywhere. We don't mean to leave him alone till he takes us back." There was an air of keen resolution in Miss Ruck's pretty face, of lucid apprehension of desirable ends, which made me, as she pronounced these words, direct a glance of covert compassion toward her poor recalcitrant father.
Aurora Church had taken her hand out of Miss Ruck's arm; she looked at me, smiling, with her head a little inclined, while, upon her shoulder, she made her open parasol revolve. "Which is most improper to walk alone or to walk with gentlemen? I wish to do what is most improper." "What mysterious logic governs your conduct?" I inquired.
The fugitive from the Pension Chamousset, as M. Pigeonneau called her, was a little fresh, plump, comely woman, looking less than her age, with a round, bright, serious face. She was very simply and frugally dressed, not at all in the manner of Mr. Ruck's companions, and she had an air of quiet distinction which was an excellent defensive weapon.
He looked about at the rest of us, as if to appeal from Miss Ruck's insensibility, and went to deposit his rejected tribute on a bench. "Won't you give it to me?" asked Miss Church, in faultless French. "J'adore le sirop, moi." M. Pigeonneau came back with alacrity, and presented the glass with a very low bow. "I adore good manners," murmured the old man.
I know how I mean to wear mine; but I mean to keep it till I get home." Her father transferred his melancholy gaze to her elaborately- appointed little person; there was a great deal of very new-looking detail in Miss Ruck's appearance. Then, in a tone of voice quite out of consonance with his facial despondency, "Have you purchased a great deal?" he inquired.
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