CHAPTER XVII
She loitered on the step, even after the sound of wheels grew dim. Her eyes feasted on the golden river and her ears caught the pleasant notes of insects and night birds; but her mind was alert and practical to the moment. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Howard, standing by the chimney-piece and leaning upon it in a handsome and familiar attitude. He could not have looked more at home if he had owned the house. A sense of anger stirred in her.
“If he were old I could understand it. Old men naturally want a snug home to die in!” Then, as was habitual with her, amusement took the place of indignation. “To-morrow I’ll hang a crape bow and streamers between my shoulder-blades and go my way in lonesome peace.”
Thinking that she might as well have it over with, she went indoors slowly. She looked quizzically at Howard as she said, with pointed emphasis on the degree of relationship:
“Well, Mr. Fifth-Cousin-by-Marriage, what is this legend about my bolts and bars? I shall leave my windows open as usual, I suppose.”
“Oh! that was an excuse, of course—and a thin one. Dear Rosamond, I wonder if you have any idea why I have lingered?”
His assumption of tenderness did not please her. She sank into the big chair by the settee, making herself comfortable with cushions and footstool. If she must hear another proposal of marriage that day, she would at least hear it at her ease.
“I’ve seen it taking shape, but I did hope you wouldn’t,” she said shortly.
“Wouldn’t what?” in surprise, for no indication of her humour had reached him.