“I’m Mrs. Page’s secretary,” she explained with cold formality.
“Lucky, lucky Mrs. Page!” said he.
A faint color rose in her cheeks. She resented his attitude, his easy and careless manner, his appraising glance, and he read the resentment in her face.
“Prudish!” he thought.
This did not annoy him. He liked this tall, dark, unsmiling girl just as she was, a charming novelty; but he would have to change his tactics.
“You were reading, weren’t you?” he said respectfully. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”
“No, Mr. Randall,” she answered.
Then, suddenly, his undisciplined soul was filled with a sort of envy for this untroubled and superior creature who read books.
“I try to read,” he said. “I wish to Heaven I could; but it’s too late now.”
“I don’t see how it could ever be too late to read,” said Geraldine, with a trace of scorn.