CHAPTER XXVII.
"Who is that calf, Evadne, standing by the piano?" Louis put the question to his cousin the next evening, as he sought a few moments' respite from his duties as host at her side.
"That is Mr. Simpson Kennard."
Louis surveyed the fashionably dressed, weak-faced, sandy-haired young man from head to foot. "He will never get above his collar!" he said in a tone of infinite scorn.
Evadne laughed. "You must confess it is high enough to limit the aspirations of an ordinary mortal."
Marion fluttered up to them, her cheeks aglow with excitement. "Louis, where are you? I want to introduce you to Simpsey. He has just arrived."
Evadne looked after her as she led her brother away. "Poor little soul.
What a butterfly it is! Fancy having a husband whom one could call
Simpsey!"
She started. Her knight of the gate was standing before her with outstretched hand. A great light was in his face. "Do you remember?" he asked, and Evadne's eyes glowed deep with pleasure, as she laid her hand in his. They would never be properly introduced, these two, "'Life is a beautiful possibility,'" she said, "I am proving it so every day,—but, oh, the awful suffering in the world! I cannot understand,—"
And John Randolph answered with his strong, sweet faith. "God understands, we do not need to."
They were standing in an alcove partially screened by a tall palm from the crowd which surged up and down through the rooms. He took from his pocket a morocco case, and, opening it, held it towards her. What made the color flush her cheeks while her eyes fell beneath his gaze? She only saw a little square of lawn and lace, but the name traced across one corner was 'Evadne'!