"
She sighed.
"It's quite as bad as being a Girton girl," she said. "Do you know what a
Girton girl is?"
"No, I don't."
"It's a girl from Girton College. It's the most awful freak you ever saw.
They're really quite beyond everything. They're so homely, and their hands
and feet are so enormous, and their pins never pin, and their belts never
belt. And no one has ever married one of them yet!"
She paused dramatically.
"I won't either, then," he declared.
She laughed at that, and touched up the cob a trifle.
"Did you live long in England?" he asked.
"Forever!" she answered with emphasis; "at least it seemed like forever.
Mamma left me there when I was nineteen (she married me off before she
left me, of course) and I stayed there until last winter--until I was out
of my mourning, you know--and then I was on the Continent for a while, and
then I returned to papa."
"How do we strike you after your long absence?"
"Oh, you suit me admirably," she said, turning and smiling squarely into
his face; "only the terrible 'and' of the majority does get on my nerves
somewhat."
"What 'and'?"
"Haven't you noticed? Why when an American runs out of talking material he
just rests on one poor little 'and' until a fresh run of thought
overwhelms him; you listen to the next person you're talking with, and
you'll hear what I mean."
Jack reflected.
"I will," he said at last.
The road went sweeping in and out among a thicket of bare tree trunks and
brown copses, and the sunlight fell out of the blue sky above straight
down upon their heads.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51