He could not flatter himself that she had bestowed a thought upon him. On the contrary, he told himself that his impetuosity had made headway backwards; and he was as greatly astonished as he was delighted when George McMillan came to see him two afternoons later, at the Holland House, and brought him a card for a charity ball at the Metropolitan. “We had some extra ones,” George said. “Lena thought you might like to come.”
“She did? Why, I—I——” Dan was breathless at once.
“What?”
“Why, I didn’t think she noticed I was on earth. This is perfectly beautiful of her!”
“Why, no,” George assured him; “it’s nothing at all. We had four or five cards we really didn’t know what to do with. There’ll be an awful crowd there, all kinds of people.”
“Yes, I know; but it was just beautiful of her to think of me.” And Dan added solemnly: “That sister of yours reminds me of a flower.”
“She does?” George said, visibly surprised. “You mean Lena?”
“Yes, I do. She’s like the most perfect flower that ever blossomed.”
“That’s strange news to me,” said George. “Then maybe you’d be willing to come to the house to dinner and go to this show with the family. Heaven knows I’d like to have you; it might help me to sneak out after we get ’em there. You sure you could stand it?”
“I should consider it the greatest privilege of my life,” said Dan.