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Updated: May 16, 2025
Westangle know what she thinks? And if she doesn't, how should I?" "That's true. And are you going to give me away?" "I haven't done it yet. But isn't it best to be honest?" "It mightn't be a success." "The honesty?" "My literary celebrity." "There's that," Miss Macroyd rejoiced. "Well, so far I've merely said I was sure you were not Verrian the actor. I'll think the other part over."
"Who in the world," Miss Macroyd suddenly demanded, "is the person floundering about in the birch woods?" "Perhaps the soprano," Verrian returned, hardily. Bushwick detached himself from a group of girls near by and intercepted any response from Miss Macroyd to Verrian by calling to her before he came up, "Are you going to be one of the enemy, Miss Macroyd?" "No, I think I will be neutral."
"What is all our athletic training to go for if you do?" Mrs. Westangle read on: "The terms of capitulation can be arranged on the ground, whether the castle is carried or the assailing party are made prisoners by its defenders." "Hopeless captivity in either case!" Bushwick lamented. "Isn't it rather academic?" Miss Macroyd asked of Verrian, in a low voice. "I'm afraid, rather," he owned.
She could be trusted to do and say the unexpected. But she was considered a little morbid, and certainly she had an exaltation of the nerves that was at times almost beyond her control. "Oh, dear!" Miss Macroyd whispered. "What is that strange simpleton going to do, I wonder?" Verrian did not feel obliged to answer a question not addressed to him, but he, too, wondered and doubted.
If you want to know, I believe Miss Macroyd feels the distinction of being in the secret so much that she'll prefer to hint round till Mrs. Westangle gives the thing away. She had to tell me, because I was there with her when she saw you with the young lady, to keep me from going with my curiosity to you. Come, I do think she's honest about it."
Verrian interpreted for her: "The sea-horses must have given out at Seasands. Or probably there's some mistake," and he reflected bitterly upon the selfishness of Miss Macroyd in grabbing that victoria for herself and her maid, not considering that she could not know, and has no business to ask, whether this girl was going to Mrs. Westangle's, too. "Have you a check?" he asked.
Westangle's, and both his heart and his mind misgave him about this first essay of Miss Shirley in her new enterprise. It was, as Miss Macroyd had suggested, academic, and at the same time it had a danger in it of being tomboyish. Golf, tennis, riding, boating, swimming all the vigorous sports in which women now excel were boldly athletic, and yet you could not feel quite that they were tomboyish.
This did not quite happen on the way to Belford, for, when he went to take his seat in the drawing-room car, a girl in the chair fronting him put out her hand with the laugh of Miss Macroyd. "She did remember you!" she cried out. "How delightful! I don't see how she ever got onto you" she made the slang her own "in the first place, and she must have worked hard to be sure of you since."
"No, this train stops at Southfield," the conductor answered, absently biting several holes into her drawing-room ticket. "Can she be one of us?" Miss Macroyd demanded, in a dramatic whisper. "She might be anything," Verrian returned, trying instantly, with a whir of his inventive machinery, to phrase her.
But I found a delightful public vehicle behind the station, and I came in that. I'm so glad to know that it wasn't Mrs. Westangle who had the trouble of sending the carriage back for me." Miss Macroyd laughed and laughed at his resentment. "But surely you met it on the way? I gave the man a description of you. Didn't he stop for you?" "Oh yes, but I was too proud to change by that time.
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