Was it regret for the conquest she
relinquished, was it sympathy for her friend, or was it an
uncontrollable overflow of feeling as she read some sad or tender
passage of the little romance which she kept hidden away in her
own heart?
On Monday, Polly began the "delicate and dangerous task." Instead
of going to her pupils by way of the park and the pleasant streets
adjoining, she took a roundabout route through back streets, and
thus escaped Mr. Sydney, who, as usual, came home to dinner very
early that day and looked disappointed because he nowhere saw
the bright face in the modest bonnet. Polly kept this up for a week,
and by carefully avoiding the Shaws' house during calling hours,
she saw nothing of Mr. Sydney, who, of course, did n't visit her at
Miss Mills'. Minnie happened to be poorly that week and took no
lesson, so Uncle Syd was deprived of his last hope, and looked as
if his allowance of sunshine had been suddenly cut off.
Now, as Polly was by no means a perfect creature, I am free to
confess that the old temptation assailed her more than once that
week, for, when the first excitement of the dodging reform had
subsided, she missed the pleasant little interviews that used to put
a certain flavor of romance into her dull, hard-working days.
Pages:
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398