He seemed inclined to make up for Elinor's lack of enthusiasm by
his own. He built up a larger fire, and moved her chair near it.
"Weather's raw," he said. "Sure you are comfortable now? And why
not have dinner here? We have an interesting man coming, and we
don't often have the chance to offer our guests a charming young
lady."
"Lily only came home yesterday, Jim," Elinor observed. "Her own
people will want to see something of her. Besides, they do no
know she is here."
Lily felt slightly chilled. For years she had espoused her Aunt
Elinor's cause; in the early days she had painfully hemstitched a
small handkerchief each fall and had sent it, with much secrecy, to
Aunt Elinor's varying addresses at Christmas. She had felt a
childish resentment of Elinor Doyle's martyrdom. And now--
"Her father and grandfather are dining out to-night." Had Lily
looked up she would have seen Doyle's eyes fixed on his wife,
ugly and menacing.
"Dining out?" Lily glanced at him in surprise.
"There is a dinner to-night, for the--" He checked himself "The
steel manufacturers are having a meeting," he finished. "I believe
to discuss me, among other things.
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