She seemed a bit confused at my answer, but I couldn't tell at which part of it. Then she said that he didn't pick it out. He thinks he sent roses, and he'd have a fit if he knew it was that awful Gates Ajar. He sent his card to some old relative in Georgetown with a check and asked him to order something appropriate for the occasion.
I asked Babe then, why, if the design wasn't Watty's choice, and she thought it was so dreadful, why did she cling to it so fondly, and take it back to the Cape at the risk of all her hats and the sure ruin of two of them. But she paid no attention to my remark, just went on with her packing. I know she's relieved to find out it wasn't Watty's taste. If they are not actually engaged, they have almost reached the gate, and it is ajar.
CHAPTER XVI
HOME-COMINGS
I might as well have traveled alone, for all the company Babe and Watson proved to be. They were so absorbed in their conversation with each other that they never once glanced out of the window, even when we were going along the Cape where one is apt to see a familiar face every time the train stops.
I was so glad to get back to familiar scenes like cranberry bogs and dunes and marshes, with the pools of water shining in them like mirrors, that I kept exclaiming, "Oh, look!" I said it several times before I realized that the landscape had no attractions for them. Neither had the stuffy car any discomforts, although the hot July sunshine streamed in across the red velvet upholstery.
With their chairs swung facing each other, they sat and talked like two Robinson Crusoes who had just found each other after aeons of solitude on separate islands. For a while I watched them over the top of my magazine; Watson mopping his shiny red face with his handkerchief, and Babe with her hat tilted crooked over one eye and a little wisp of hair straggling over her neck, and her collar all rumpled up behind. I kept wondering what on earth was the attraction that each had for the other. One can understand it when the heroine is beautiful and the hero fascinating, but how two such plain, average people as Babe Nolan and Watson Tucker can inspire the grand passion is a puzzle.