Ransom could see that, according to a phrase which came
back to him just then, oddly, out of some novel or poem he had read of
old, she was the cynosure of every eye. She looked beautiful, and they
were a beautiful couple. As soon as she saw him, she put out her left
hand to him--the other was in Mr. Burrage's arm--and said: "Well, don't
you think it's all true?"
"No, not a word of it!" Ransom answered, with a kind of joyous
sincerity. "But it doesn't make any difference."
"Oh, it makes a great deal of difference to me!" Verena cried.
"I mean to me. I don't care in the least whether I agree with you,"
Ransom said, looking askance at young Mr. Burrage, who had detached
himself and was getting something for Verena to eat.
"Ah, well, if you are so indifferent!"
"It's not because I'm indifferent!" His eyes came back to her own, the
expression of which had changed before they quitted them. She began to
complain to her companion, who brought her something very dainty on a
plate, that Mr. Ransom was "standing out," that he was about the hardest
subject she had encountered yet. Henry Burrage smiled upon Ransom in a
way that was meant to show he remembered having already spoken to him,
while the Mississippian said to himself that there was nothing on the
face of it to make it strange there should be between these fair,
successful young persons some such question of love or marriage as Mrs.
Luna had tattled about. Mr.
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