Hilyard is an 'auld acquaintance',"
she said, laughing. "And she's so pretty! I do love people who are nice to
look at, don't you?"
"Yes." Just the bare monosyllable, rather grudgingly uttered--nothing more.
"Don't you think she's very beautiful?" asked Ann in some astonishment at
the lack of enthusiasm in his tones.
"Yes. But, after all, that's only the outside of the cup and platter. It's
the soul inside the shell that matters."
"Well, I should think Cara has a beautiful soul, too," replied Ann loyally.
"Probably you know her better than I do," he said indifferently. Then, as
though to change the subject: "What book have you been reading?" He picked
it up from her lap, where it lay face downward, open at the lyric which had
been occupying her thoughts when he joined her. "Oh, verse?"
"I felt too lazy to begin a novel," she explained.
His eyes travelled down the brief lines of the little song she had been
reading, his face hardening as he read.
"Charmingly optimistic," he observed ironically, as he closed the book.
"I'm afraid, however, that the 'garden of happy hours' is a purely
imaginary one for most of us."
"Of course it's bound to be--if you don't believe in it.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238