“It illustrates the devotion of the masculine nature, I suppose.”
“In horses? Yes; it’s a pity that it hasn’t been evoluted into men.”
“It has,” I answered curtly, “for those who are capable of seeing and appreciating it.”
This probably made her angry, for she turned on me with her most evil expression:
“It’s a mystery to me why, with your overweening admiration for the other sex, you haven’t married, Miss Leigh. You must have had countless opportunities; child-like faith, such as yours, must be very attractive to them.”
I stared at her a moment in silence; her insolence stupefied me. Then I think I opened the nearest window, and pitched her out. Mrs. Purblind insists I did not do that, exactly, but that I got rid of her. As she hasn’t been in since, a desirable result was obtained, and I don’t much care what the method may have been.
I aired my house the rest of the day, having a wish to cleanse it, and protect my moral nature, much as one would rid a place of sewer gas, to protect the physical being.
I was not in a very good temper after all this, and it annoyed me to see Randolph Chance coming in before taking his train. He had been calling oftener than usual of late, but he didn’t seem to have much to say, and so his coming gave no especial pleasure.
To-day what talk we had ran on flowers for a time, when Mr. Chance, awkwardly and out-of-placedly, asked me how I liked the Reve d’or rose. This was the kind of rose I had received every morning, during my illness.
I looked at him inquiringly. I confess my heart was beating faster.