I
presented the Philosopher, who immediately presented his trout flies.
She scanned him closely--the Philosopher is very good-looking
(almost--but not quite--better-looking than the Skeptic)--then she
dropped down upon one of the porch cushions by his side. He politely
offered her a chair, but she insisted that she liked the cushion better,
and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which
showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.
* * * * *
Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."
Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
expression.
The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.
"You will excuse----" he began.
But Dahlia did not let him finish.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41