Burton was sitting back, his hands in his pockets,
his mouth wide-open.
"Mr. Burton!" she exclaimed softly. He had the grace to sit up.
"Long-winded sort of stuff, this," he pronounced, in an audible whisper.
She felt a cold shiver of apprehension. As she saw him lounging there
beside her, her thoughts seemed to go back to the day when she had
looked with scornful disdain at that miserable picnic-party of trippers,
who drank beer out of stone jugs, and formed a blot upon the landscape.
Once more she saw the man who stood a little apart, in his loud clothes
and common cloth cap, saw him looking into the garden. She began to
tremble. What had she done--so nearly done! In spite of herself, the
music drew her away again. She even found herself turning towards him
once for sympathy.
"Isn't it exquisite?" she murmured.
He laughed shortly.
"Give me The Chocolate Soldier," he declared. "Worth a dozen of this!"
Suddenly she realized what had happened. Her anger and resentment faded
away. For the first time she wholly and entirely believed his story.
For the first time she felt that this miracle had come to pass. She was
no longer ashamed of him. She no longer harbored any small feelings of
resentment at his ill-bred attitude.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289