He tried the weather, the flood, the accident, golf, books and three
good, substantial, warranted jokes, but the conversation lagged in
spite of him. Miss Van Kamp would not for the world have it understood
that this unconventional meeting, made allowable by her wrenched
ankle, could possibly fulfill the functions of a formal introduction.
"What a ripping, queer old building that is!" he exclaimed, making one
more brave effort as they came in sight of the hotel.
"It is, rather," she assented. "The rooms in it are as quaint and
delightful as the exterior, too."
She looked as harmless and innocent as a basket of peaches as she said
it, and never the suspicion of a smile deepened the dimple in the
cheek toward him. The smile was glowing cheerfully away inside,
though. He could feel it, if he could not see it, and he laughed
aloud.
"Your crowd rather got the better of us there," he admitted with the
keen appreciation of one still quite close to college days.
"Of course, the mater is furious, but I rather look on it as a lark."
She thawed like an April icicle.
"It's perfectly jolly," she laughed with him.
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