"Was I?" she returned. "I had forgotten. What did I say?"
"You asked if he had made any friends," I replied, as calmly as I
could. "I was going to read you what he said."
"Oh!" she cried. And at last she dropped her knitting, and resting her
elbows on her knees, clasping her chin in her hands, she looked up at
me from her low chair. "I thought it was forbidden," she said.
"Tim didn't say anything about not reading it," I answered. "At first,
though, it seemed best not to; but you'll understand, Mary. Of course,
we mustn't take him too seriously, but it does sound foolish. Poor
Tim!"
"Poor Tim!" repeated the girl. "He must be in love."
"He is," said I.
"Then don't read it!" she cried. "Surely he never intended you to read
it to me."
"Of course he did," I laughed, for at last I had aroused her, and now
her infernal knitting was forgotten; she no longer strained her ears
for Weston's footfalls. Her eyes were fixed on me. "Poor old Tim!
Well, let's wish him luck, Mary. Now listen."
So I read her the forbidden pages.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
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159