"Yes," says Etta, allowing Paul to take her perfectly gloved hand in his
great, steady grasp; "yes, I have my answer ready."
They were alone in the plashy solitude of an inner conservatory, between
the songs of the great singers. She was half afraid of this strong man,
for he had strange ways with him--not uncouth, but unusual and somewhat
surprising in a finnicking, emotionless generation.
"And what is it?" whispers Paul eagerly. Ah! what fools men are--what
fools they always will be!
Etta gave a little nod, looking shamefacedly down at the pattern of her
lace fan.
"Is that it?" he asked breathlessly.
The nod was repeated, and Paul Howard Alexis was thereby made the
happiest man in England. She half expected him to take her in his arms,
despite the temporary nature of their solitude. Perhaps she half wished
it; for behind her business-like and exceedingly practical appreciation
of his wealth there lurked a very feminine curiosity and interest in his
feelings--a curiosity somewhat whetted by the manifold differences that
existed between him and the society lovers with whom she had hitherto
played the pretty game.
But Paul contented himself with raising the gloved fingers to his lips,
restrained by a feeling of respect for her which she would not have
understood and probably did not merit.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92