"
"I never knew anybody who could," she said, and gave him a subtle look
that disturbed him horribly.
"I only meant--" He stammered and stopped, for he wasn't quite sure
what he did mean. His fair, fresh face was strained with the effort to
express himself.
He meditated.
"You know, she's really rather fascinating. You can't help looking at
her. Only--she doesn't seem to see that you're there. I suppose that's
what puts you off."
"I know. It does, dreadfully," said Mary.
She summoned a flash and let him have it. "But she's magnificent."
"Magnificent!" he echoed with his robust enthusiasm.
But what he thought was that it was magnificent of Mrs. Rowcliffe to
praise her sister.
And Rowcliffe smiled grimly at young Grierson and his Platonic
passion. He said to himself, "If I'd only known. If I'd only had the
sense to wait six months. Grierson would have done just as well for
Molly."
Still, though Grierson had come too late, he welcomed him and his
Platonic passion. It wasn't good for Grierson but it was good for
Molly. At least, he supposed it was better for her than nothing. And
for him it was infinitely better. It kept Grierson off Gwenda.
* * * * *
Young Grierson was right when he said that Gwenda didn't see that he
was there. He had been two years in Garthdale and she was as far
from seeing it as ever. He didn't mind; he was even amused by her
indifference, only he couldn't help thinking that it was rather odd of
her, considering that he _was_ there.
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