I
hate secrets, especially about women. If your father is a
market-gardener it's all right, so long as you can explain exactly who
you are and where you came from; but there must be no mystery. Talk it
over with her, Guy. I'll look in here on my way out."
She nodded a little curtly but not unkindly, and swept toward the door,
which Guy opened and closed after her. Then he came slowly back, and,
putting his arm around Virginia's waist, kissed her.
"You don't want to see the house, do you?" he asked.
Virginia shook her head.
"Not a bit," she answered. "I think that we had better go away."
"There is no hurry," he answered slowly. "We may as well stay and talk
it over a bit. When one comes to think of it, it is trying the old lady
pretty high, isn't it? Suppose we just review the situation for a minute
or two. Something might occur to us."
Virginia leaned back against the cushions.
"Certainly," she answered. "You review it and I'll listen."
"Right!" Guy answered. "I met you first, then, never mind exactly how
long ago, on the steamer coming from America. You were quite alone,
unescorted, and unchaperoned. That in itself, as of course you know, was
a very remarkable thing.
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