He entered into conversation with Ruth at once, and he found her so interesting (or she found him so interesting) that Ruth had little attention to give to her vis-à-vis across the table.
The latter’s countenance grew heavier and heavier, his dark brows drawing together and his black eyes smouldering.
If anybody noticed this change in Tom’s countenance it was his twin sister, sitting on Ruth’s side of the table. And perhaps she understood her brother’s mood. Now and then her own eyes flashed something besides curiosity along the table on her side at Ruth and Chess Copley, so evidently lost in each other’s companionship.
But it was a gay party. How could it be otherwise with Jennie at the table? And everybody was bound to second the gaiety of the bride. The groom’s pride in Jennie was so open, yet so very courteously expressed, that half the girls there envied Jennie her possession of Henri Marchand.
“To think,” drawled Ann Hicks, who had come East from Silver Ranch, “that Heavy Stone should grab off such a prize in the matrimonial grab-bag. My!” and she finished with a sigh.
“When does your turn come, Ann?” asked somebody.
“Believe me,” said the ranch girl, with emphasis, “I have got to see somebody besides cowpunchers and horse-wranglers before I make such a fatal move.”
“You have lost all your imagination,” laughed Helen, from across the table.
“I don’t know. Maybe I used it all up, back in those old kid days when I ran away to be ‘Nita’ and played at being ‘the abused chee-ild’. Remember?”
“Oh, don’t we!” cried Helen and some of the other girls.