His manner and appearance secured the attention of Gus also, and with a contemptuous laugh he said loud enough for Arden to hear partially:
"That native comes from pretty far back, I imagine. He looks as if he never saw a lady and gentleman before. The idea of living like such a cabbage-head as that!"
If Gus had not been with Edith, his good clothes and good looks would have been spoiled within the next five minutes.
Edith glanced the other way and pointed to her strawberry-bed as if not noticing his remark or its object, saying:
"If you will come and see us a year from next June, I can give you a dainty treat from these plants."
"You will not be here next June," said Gus tenderly. "Do you imagine we can spare you from New York? The city has seemed dull since robbed of the light of your bright eyes."
Edith rather liked sugar-plums of such make, even from Gus, and she, as it were, held out her hand again by the rather sentimental remark:
"Absent ones are soon forgotten."
Gus, from much experience, knew how to flirt beautifully, and so with some aptness and show of feeling, replied:
"From my thoughts you are never absent."