, amateur polo (almost) champion, all-round butterfly and cumberer
of the soil; but a broader, surer, more emphasized and determined
Teddy than the one she had known a year ago when last she saw him.
He perceived Octavia at almost the same time, deflected his course,
and steered for her in his old, straightforward way. Something like
awe came upon her as the strangeness of his metamorphosis was
brought into closer range; the rich, red-brown of his complexion
brought out so vividly his straw-coloured mustache and steel-gray
eyes. He seemed more grown-up, and, somehow, farther away. But, when
he spoke, the old, boyish Teddy came back again. They had been friends
from childhood.
"Why, 'Tave!" he exclaimed, unable to reduce his perplexity to
coherence. "How--what--when--where?"
"Train," said Octavia; "necessity; ten minutes ago; home. Your
complexion's gone, Teddy. Now, how--what--when--where?"
"I'm working down here," said Teddy. He cast side glances about the
station as one does who tries to combine politeness with duty.
"You didn't notice on the train," he asked, "an old lady with gray
curls and a poodle, who occupied two seats with her bundles and
quarrelled with the conductor, did you?"
"I think not," answered Octavia, reflecting.
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