At this she turned and gave him a look which came out somewhere beyond him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Why, you don’t seem to realize that this is a great day. Spring is here, and the birds are busy—this is a mighty pretty street, by the way, like the country, and I’m out of that infernal room walking on my own legs. I feel we should be taking hold of hands and skipping—Merry, Merry May, fol-de-rol, tiddle-de-winks, and all that, you know.”
She met his laughing eyes and relaxed slightly. “It is a celebration for you, isn’t it?” she said.
“Yes. Ogden said Miss Frink teased you yesterday.”
“Oh, how silly to speak of it!” exclaimed Millicent, reverting to the profile and coloring beautifully. He thought she looked very pretty, and he laughed gayly at her sudden temper.
“Well, I just want you to remember that I wasn’t the guilty party. An innocent bystander shouldn’t be crushed, yet how often they are!”
In the rural road, Hugh was effervescing with the joy of living, and his prim escort was gradually unbending. When an apple tree in full bloom came in view, it helped wonderfully.
“Grandpa has a little orchard. It looks marvelous. You will see—we’re almost there.”
“Wait a minute, Miss Duane”—Hugh put out a hand gropingly—“just a minute. I feel queer—”