"
"If there is anything an unworthy substitute can do," Burton began,--
"Nice girls do not accept substitutes for their fiances," Edith
interrupted, ruthlessly. "I am a very nice girl indeed. I think that
you are very lazy this afternoon. You would be better employed at work
than in talking nonsense."
Burton sighed.
"I tried to work this morning," he declared. "I gave up simply because
I found myself thinking of you all the time. Genius is so susceptible
to diversions. This afternoon I couldn't settle down because I was
wondering all the time whether you were wearing blue linen or white
muslin. I just looked out of the window to see--you were asleep in the
hammock . . . you witch!" he murmured softly. "How could I keep sane
and collected! How could I write about anybody or anything in the world
except you! The wind was blowing those little strands of hair over your
face. Your left arm was hanging down--so; why is an arm such a graceful
thing, I wonder? Your left knee was drawn up--you had been supporting a
book against it and--"
"I don't want to hear another word," Edith protested quickly.
He sighed.
"It took me about thirty seconds to get down," he murmured. "You hadn't
moved.
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