Thomas's
dress-suit did not fail to attract immediate attention and equally
immediate remarks, and Sylvia, who hated to be conspicuous, felt her
cheeks beginning to burn. But--more sincerely than Mr. Elliott--she
decided that it was better to wait until the entertainment was over than
to attract further notice by going out at once. Thomas, less sensitive
than she, enjoyed himself thoroughly.
"We have splendid pictures in Burlington," he announced, "but this is
good for a place of this size, isn't it, Sylvia?"
"Yes. Don't talk so loudly."
"I can't talk any softer and have you hear unless I put my head up
closer. Can I?"
"Of course, you may not. Don't be so silly."
"I didn't mean to be fresh. You're not cross, are you, Sylvia?"
It seemed to her as if the "show" would never end. Chagrin and resentment
overcame her. What had possessed her to come to this hot, stuffy place
with Thomas, instead of reading French in her peaceful, pleasant
sitting-room with Austin? Why didn't Austin show more eagerness to be
with her, anyway? She liked to be with him--ever and ever so much--didn't
see half so much of him as she wanted to.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160