“Why, I thought—that you—that is, I wanted——” He broke off in some confusion at Flossie’s laugh; and nothing more was said between them, all his well-worded compliments meeting no response. “She snubs me as if I were her husband,” thought he; and he wished the awkward journey well over, and they were safely on the steamer.
There was something pitilessly practical in the dull light of the winter afternoon; commonplace, dispiriting, and the twilight hour least suited of the twenty-four for daring deeds. The very way the newsboys cried the evening papers jarred on Wemyss’s mood. Mrs. Gower had insisted on opening the door of their compartment, for air; and he could see his fellow-travellers. As Wemyss sat studying them, they seemed types too simple even to weave imaginations about; their natures could better be taken apart, like a piston from its rod, than painted, like a flower. He felt that his orbit transcended their imagination. Opposite him was a girl of twenty or more, but going back to school; attendant on her was a boy of nearer thirty, most obviously wishing to be contracted to her for matrimony, and most probably about to be. When his eyes returned from this roving they met Flossie’s; hers were fixed on him, and remained so, though she did not speak, all the way to Worcester.
There she alighted for a little walk; and so they passed Charlie Clarendon, who recognized them and bowed. “Pray heaven he does not fasten to us in the train,” thought Wemyss, devoutly. The young girl of twenty had also got out, and passed them, walking with her adorer, to whose arm she naïvely clung. When they got back to the car, Wemyss drew the sliding-door before their compartment, but Mrs. Gower again objected; and, as he feared, Clarendon was not the man to lose the chance of recommending himself to such a social shrine as Flossie Gower’s. As the train drew out of the station, he stood before their door, smirking with delight and pulling his travelling cap like Hodge his forelock. But Wemyss had to curse him inaudibly; for Flossie looked up with a brighter glance than she had worn that day, and a certain gleam of her old audacity in her famous eyes.
“So glad to see you honoring Boston in the middle of the season,” said Clarendon. “Ah—Mr. Gower with you?”
“No,” said Flossie, “Mr. Wemyss is with me. Do you not know each other? Mr. Clarendon, Mr. ——”
“I have the pleasure of Mr. Clarendon’s acquaintance,” broke in Mr. Wemyss, dryly.
“Er— Gower too busy to get away, I suppose?”
“Not at all,” said Flossie. “He did not know I was coming.”
“Ah—quite so,” said Clarendon. “I hope you mean to stop some time with us?”
“No,” said Flossie. “I leave Boston to-morrow for——”