They seem to think I had
better fold my hands. Besides, when helpful, generous minds begin to
flock in from _your_ part of the country," Miss Birdseye continued,
looking at him from under the distorted and discoloured canopy of her
hat with a benignity which completed the idea in any cheerful sense he
chose.
He felt by this time that he was committed to rather a dishonest part;
he was pledged not to give a shock to her optimism. This might cost him,
in the coming days, a good deal of dissimulation, but he was now saved
from any further expenditure of ingenuity by certain warning sounds
which admonished him that he must keep his wits about him for a purpose
more urgent. There were voices in the hall of the house, voices he knew,
which came nearer, quickly; so that before he had time to rise one of
the speakers had come out with the exclamation--"Dear Miss Birdseye,
here are seven letters for you!" The words fell to the ground, indeed,
before they were fairly spoken, and when Ransom got up, turning, he saw
Olive Chancellor standing there, with the parcel from the post office in
her hand. She stared at him in sudden horror; for the moment her
self-possession completely deserted her. There was so little of any
greeting in her face save the greeting of dismay, that he felt there was
nothing for him to say to her, nothing that could mitigate the odious
fact of his being there. He could only let her take it in, let her
divine that, this time, he was not to be got rid of.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193