You
wore blue only the night before last, when I wrote my little sketch of
'The Pavements of Bond Street on a Summer Afternoon.'"
She pointed to the journal which lay at her feet.
"I recognized myself, of course," she declared, trying to speak
severely. "It was most improper of you."
"It was nothing of the sort," he answered bluntly. "You came into the
picture and I could not keep you out. You were there, so you had to
stay."
"It was much too flattering," she objected.
Again he contradicted her.
"I could not flatter if I tried," he assured her. "It was just you."
She laughed softly.
"It is so difficult to argue with you," she murmured. "All the same, I
think that it was most improper. But then everything you do is
improper. You had no right to climb over that wall, you had no right to
walk here with me the other afternoon, even though you had driven away a
tame cow. You have no right whatever to be here to-day. What about
your wife?"
"I have been to Garden Green," he announced. "I offered her
emancipation, the same emancipation as that which I myself have
attained. She refused it absolutely. She is satisfied with Garden
Green."
"You mean," the girl asked, "that she refuses the--the--"
"Beans," he said.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126