“Wouldn’t it be splendid if you could get damages from that dreadful old man?” said Ray, with enthusiasm.
Thus the conversation ran on, and before the dinner had been finished, Herbert felt himself quite well acquainted with both Mrs. Goldwin and Ray. He had tried to convince himself that he did not care for girls, and he thought he had succeeded well in doing so. But for some inexplicable reason, his imaginary objections to the sex in general did not stand long against Ray Goldwin in particular.
Her bright blue eyes, brimful of spirit and laughter, seemed to detect his aversion, and she aimed, he thought, to show him that he had deceived himself.
After the meal had been finished all repaired to the library, where, after a half hour of social converse, Herbert wrote several letters for Mr. Goldwin at his dictation. Ray sat opposite him with the purpose of reading, but as a matter of fact she did not progress very fast with the story.
“Would you be willing to write in my autograph album, Mr. Randolph?” said she, somewhat timidly, when he had finished her father’s letters.
“Yes, I will do so with pleasure,” he answered.
“I shall be proud of such pretty writing,” returned Ray, handing him the book.
“You embarrass me,” said he, blushing.
“I don’t see why,” laughed Ray, enjoying young Randolph’s modesty.
“Well, I am not accustomed to compliments, especially from—er——”