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It's time some one of us Tresslyns had a chance to grin a little without bearing it." She raised her eyes and slowly inspected this big brother of hers. Seemingly she had not taken him in as a whole up to that moment of consideration. A slight frown appeared on her brow. "I've been hearing rather bad things about you, George," she said, after a moment.
Thorpe virtually abandoned his visits to the home of the young Tresslyns. He had them out to dinner and the theatre occasionally. They talked quite freely with him about the all-important topic, and seemed not to be unhappy or unduly exercised over the step Anne had taken. In fact, George was bursting with pride in his sister.
Thorpe's, and it might go so far as to pity Anne because she had been stupid or ill-advised in the matter of a much-discussed ante-nuptial arrangement, but nothing could alter the fact that she had never ceased being a Tresslyn, and that there was infinite justice in the restoration of at least one of the Tresslyns to a state of affluence.
He was very young, was George Tresslyn, despite the things that go to make men old. "Gee!" he said, astonished by his own emotions. Then he gripped her slender, ringless hand in his huge palm,—and was further surprised to discover that she did not wince. "We're not acting like Tresslyns at all, Anne. We're acting just like regular people."
"Simeon Dodge will appreciate my feelings,—my position—" "Simmy is very much on her side, so I'd advise you to steer clear of him," said Anne impatiently. "Now, mother dear, don't upset things here. Don't make a fuss. Don't—" "A fuss?" cried her mother, trying hard not to believe her ears. "Don't make it any harder for poor old Simmy. He is in for a rough time of it. Tresslyns everywhere!
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