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Updated: June 13, 2025
Since then he had lived on his reputation, materially reinforced by a not inconsiderable income. As Pauline watched his face, it struck her that his smile, which she had always objected to, had grown positively glittering in its intensity. Uncle Dan, for his part, thought the young man seemed amusing, but he wished he had not happened to be old Stephen Kenwick's grandson. "Then we may have you?"
Maynard's taste and supervision, and the influence of Alice Kenwick's exquisite beauty, had fairly carried him away. They were chatting in the parlor, while Miss Renwick was entertaining some young-lady friends from town and listening to the band on the parade.
To-day this facile monitor hinted that if Geof did feel so sure of himself, it would hardly be the part of a friend to press his own advantage too far. Geof was a good fellow; he really had a great opinion of Oliver Kenwick's talent, and did not hesitate to say so on occasion. It would never do to play him any unhandsome tricks.
And Kenwick was nothing if not fastidious. Her attraction had been undeniably heightened by his imagined discovery of Geoffry Daymond's interest in her; but quite independently of that artificial stimulus, she did exercise a strong fascination over him. It was not in Oliver Kenwick's scheme of life to sacrifice his independence to any claim, even to that of his own unchastened fancies.
"It is lovely," said Pauline, as she handed it to May. "How pretty!" cried May; and then, recovering her presence of mind: "I don't see how you got such a good red." Uncle Dan, meanwhile, was examining Kenwick's sketch. "How the devil did you get that likeness?" he exclaimed, forgetting, for an instant, the condition he had made. "Then the thing is forfeited," Kenwick remarked.
Old fishermen in their blue blouses, aged women, stiff, and slow, managed somehow to get upon their knees. The Colonel stood, hat in hand, facing the bridge, while May glanced, with bright interest, from one picturesque figure to another, noting the fact, in passing, that Geoffry Daymond's hat was lifted, and Oliver Kenwick's was not. Pauline sat with her head bent over the sleeping child.
Like many athletic men, he had a gift for looking outrageously lazy. At Kenwick's retort, he turned from the contemplation of San Giorgio, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and folding his hands behind his head, bestowed an amiable grin upon his astute friend. He wondered just why Kenwick found it worth while to dissemble.
"And she is the only one of us all who hasn't paid the little wretch the slightest attention!" "Oh, yes, she has," Geof protested, in perfect good faith. "She has been smiling at her!" Upon which everybody laughed, and no one more heartily than Geof, at the way his remark had turned out. Kenwick's merriment, however, was not quite sincere.
It seemed in high good humour as we caught a glimpse of it on our way over here." "Mr. Kenwick's penetration is too subtle for a plain man's comprehension," Uncle Dan observed. The persistency with which the Colonel be-mistered Kenwick was an unmistakable sign of disapproval. "Colonel Steele, I am guiltless of subtlety," Kenwick declared in his most humorous manner; "I, too, am a plain man.
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