"
"You're horrid--horrid!" protested Gracie; but she reached back and
kissed him notwithstanding. "Thank you ever so much. I hope I shan't lose
it. But I don't know what I shall do with it all. It's quite dreadful to
think of. Please don't be cross with him!" she said to Sir Beverley.
"It's--awfully--kind."
Sir Beverley smiled sardonically. "And whom are the gloves for? Some
other kind youth?"
"Oh no!" she laughed. "Only Aunt Avery. She tore hers all to bits this
afternoon. I expect it was over a dog fight or something, but she
wouldn't tell us what. They were nice gloves too. She isn't a bit rich,
but she always wears nice gloves."
"Being a woman!" growled Sir Beverley.
"Don't you like women?" asked Gracie sympathetically. "I like men best
too as a rule. But Aunt Avery is so very sweet. No one could help loving
her, could they, Piers?"
"Have an orange!" said Piers, pulling the dish towards him.
"Oh, thank you, I mustn't stop," Gracie turned to Sir Beverley and lifted
her bright face. "Good-bye! Thank you for being so kind."
There was no irony in her thanks, and even he could scarcely refuse the
friendly offer of her lips. He stooped and grimly received her farewell
salute on his cheek.
Piers loaded her with as many oranges as she could carry, and they
finally departed through the great hall which Gracie surveyed with eyes
of reverent admiration.
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