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Updated: August 15, 2024
"It was her picture I sent you," said Miss Simpson. She was the first to break the silence to which Miss Bingham abandoned them, but she did not speak till her friend had closed the outer door behind her and was tripping down the brick walk to the gate. "Yes," said Langbourne, in a dryness which he could not keep himself from using.
She then came down under the maples towards him, at first swiftly, and then more and more slowly, until finally she faltered to a stop. He quickened his own pace and came up to her with a "Good-morning" called to her and a lift of his hat. She returned neither salutation, and said, "I was coming to see you, Mr. Langbourne."
Then the talk ran unbrokenly on for a while, and again dropped into laughs that recognized the drowse creeping upon the talkers. Suddenly it stopped altogether, and left Langbourne, as he felt, definitively awake for the rest of the night. He had received an impression which he could not fully analyze.
She asked if she were right in supposing the seedsman's catalogues and folders had come to her from Langbourne, and begged to know from him whether the seedsman in question was reliable: it was so difficult to get garden seeds that one could trust. The correspondence now established itself, and with one excuse or another it prospered throughout the winter.
Her voice was still a silver bell, but it was not gay, and her face was severely unsmiling. "To see me?" he returned. "Has anything " "No, there's nothing the matter. But I should like to talk with you." She held a little packet, tied with blue ribbon, in her intertwined hands, and she looked urgently at him. "I shall be very glad," Langbourne began, but she interrupted,
She had the suspicion that is inherent in all shy wild things, and yet, looking at him, she felt that this man was no dangerous animal to be feared and avoided. Turning suddenly, he caught her glance and smiled. "You live here?" "No!" "Yet you oh, I see, you are staying here " "No, I live at Little Langbourne." He smiled, having no idea where Little Langbourne might be.
Village mothers frightened small children into good behaviour by threatening them that Rundle would come and take them away a name to conjure with. Little Langbourne only knew peace and felt secure when Rundle was undergoing one of his temporary retirements from activity, when, as a guest of the State, he cursed his luck and the gamekeepers who had been one too many for him.
"I've brought you your letters to her," and she handed him the packet she had been holding. "Have you got hers with you?" "They are at the hotel," answered Langbourne. "Well, that's right, then. I thought perhaps you had brought them. You see," Miss Bingham continued, much more cold-bloodedly than Langbourne thought she need, "we talked it over last night, and it's too silly.
Johnny drove his small car to the doors of the Hall. "Joan," he said, "come out. Come out for a spin the car's running finely to-day. Come out, and we'll go and have lunch at Langbourne or somewhere. What do you say?" His face was eager. "You know," he added, "you have never been out with me in my car yet." "If you would like me to." "Go and get ready then, and I'll tell Helen," he said.
Langbourne went to bed as soon as he reached his hotel because he found himself spent with the experience of the evening; but as he rested from his fatigue he grew wakeful, and he tried to get its whole measure and meaning before him.
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