We had not more than taken our seats when the Skeptic leaned past
Hepatica to call my attention to two people who had come down the aisle
and were finding their places just across it and in the row ahead of us.
I turned to the Philosopher.
"There they are," I whispered. So our four pairs of eyes gazed
interestedly that way.
As she settled into place, Dahlia, whose pretty, flushed face had been
turned in every direction over the house as she got out of her evening
coat, caught sight of us. She bowed and smiled with great cordiality,
and immediately called her companion's attention to us. The
Professor--eighteen years Dahlia's senior, but one of the best men who
ever walked the earth, as we had long since discovered--turned and
scanned us over his spectacles. Then he also responded to our smiling
recognitions with a somewhat subdued but pleased acknowledgment. Dahlia
continued to whisper to him, still glancing back at us from time to time
with looks of good-fellowship, and he appeared to lend an attentive ear,
though he did not again turn toward us.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93