Clytie leaned forward again, her eyes wide open and staring. Her hands were tightly clasped together.
"A little boy?" she repeated.
"Why, that's what it said in the paper. Great story, isn't it?"
Clytie's breath came and went rapidly, as if she were trying to breathe in a storm, amidst the dashing of waves. The color went from her cheeks, her thin nostrils dilated. Then, retreating into the shade again, she managed to say:
"It certainly is romantic."
"No one would believe a thing like that could be true," he followed.
"No, I can scarcely believe it's possible, myself," she replied, controlling her agitation.
Blanchard Cayley ran on and on with his talk. Clytie gave him scant attention, answering in monosyllables.
CHAPTER V
THE RISE AND FALL OF GAY P. SUMMER