To-night she yielded herself to the pleasure of the
moment, and she had almost forgotten both the sad thoughts of her vigil
and the fear that troubled her, as she listened to Arthur's animated
words. It was not until he rose as if to say good-night, that her mind
came back suddenly to the matter of which she wished to speak.
It was in a very different mood, however, from that in which she would
have spoken half an hour before, that she now brought up the thing that
had been troubling her. She hesitated a little how to question her
husband without seeming to jar upon the friendly tone in which they had
been talking. He was watching her keenly, wondering why she had waited
for his coming, and speculating whether it were possible that she might
altogether have forgotten what she meant to say. He thought she was
about to speak, and anticipated her by saying,--
"Really, Edith, it would be hard to find, even in Boston, a more
incongruous company than we gathered together at dinner to-night."
"There was a good deal of variety," she returned; adding defensively,
"but then they fitted together pretty well."
"What a funny old party Miss Penwick is," Arthur went on, inwardly
gathering himself up for a rapid retreat. "Almost as soon as she had
said, 'how do you do' she asked me what I thought the object of life
was."
"How very like her; what did you tell her?"
"Oh, I said I supposed the object of life is to transform the crude
animal and vegetable substances of our food into passions and petty
sentiments.
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