However serious she might seem, whatever
appeared to be her topic, all was thou-and-I.
He planned for more of it, seeing otherwise a dull evening ahead;
and reverted, afterwhile, to a forbidden subject. "About that
dance at Miss Lamb's--since your father's so much better----"
She flushed a little. "Now, now!" she chided him. "We agreed
not to say any more about that."
"Yes, but since he IS better----"
Alice shook her head. "He won't be better to-morrow. He always
has a bad day after a good one especially after such a good one
as this is."
"But if this time it should be different," Russell persisted;
"wouldn't you be willing to come if he's better by to-morrow
evening? Why not wait and decide at the last minute?"
She waved her hands airily. "What a pother!" she cried. "What
does it matter whether poor little Alice Adams goes to a dance or
not?"
"Well, I thought I'd made it clear that it looks fairly bleak to
me if you don't go."
"Oh, yes!" she jeered.
"It's the simple truth," he insisted. "I don't care a great deal
about dances these days; and if you aren't going to be there----"
"You could stay away," she suggested. "You wouldn't!"
"Unfortunately, I can't. I'm afraid I'm supposed to be the excuse.
Miss Lamb, in her capacity as a friend of my relatives----"
"Oh, she's giving it for YOU! I see! On Mildred's account you
mean?"
At that his face showed an increase of colour.
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