They dropped immediately, because his quiet
voice and speech scarcely conformed to the uncontrolled protest in his
eyes.
For a moment she stood, passing the golden links through her white
fingers like a young novice with a rosary. Steps on the stairs disturbed
them; the recessional had begun; four solemn persons filed out the area
gate. At the same moment, suave and respectful, her butler pro tem.
presented himself at the doorway:
"Luncheon is served, madam."
"Thank you." She looked uncertainly at Brown, hesitated, flushed a
trifle.
"I will stay here and admit the plumber and then--then--I'll g-go," he
said with a heartbroken smile.
"I suppose you took the opportunity to lunch when you went out?" she
said. Her inflection made it a question.
Without answering he stepped back to allow her to pass. She moved
forward, turned, undecided.
"_Have_ you lunched?"
"Please don't feel that you ought to ask me," he began, and checked
himself as the vivid pink deepened in her cheeks. Then she freed herself
of embarrassment with a little laugh.
"Considering," she said, "that we have been chasing cats on the back
fences together and that, subsequently, you dug me out of the coal in my
own cellar, I can't believe it is very dreadful if I ask you to luncheon
with me.... Is it?"
"It is ador--it is," he corrected himself firmly, "exceedingly civil of
you to ask me!"
"Then--will you?" almost timidly.
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