“Yes indeed,” said he confidently. “But I do not believe I shall ever get it.”
“Then that is the ‘disagreeable and painful thing’ you referred to, as having happened this morning, I suppose,” remarked Sybil, calmly, as she turned to take up her cloak which lay on the sofa. Ronald blushed scarlet.
“Well–yes,” he said, forgetting in his embarrassment to help her.
“It is so heavy,” said Sybil. “Thanks. Do you know that you have been making confidences to me, Mr. Surbiton?” she asked, turning and facing him, with a half-amused, half-serious look in her blue eyes.
“I am afraid I have,” he answered, after a short pause. “You must think I am very foolish.”
“Never mind,” she said gravely. “They are safe with me.”
“Thanks,” said Ronald in a low voice.
Josephine entered the room, clad in many furs, and a few minutes later all three were on their way to Mrs. Wyndham’s, the big booby sleigh rocking and leaping and ploughing in the heavy dry snow.
Chapter XV.
Pocock Vancouver was also abroad in the snowstorm. He would not in any case have stayed at home on account of the weather, but on this particular morning he had very urgent business with a gentleman who, like Lamb, rose with the lark, though he did not go to bed with the chickens. There are no larks in Boston, but the scream of the locomotives answers nearly as well.