“Only a little longer, Gail,” he told her with a smile, and then he saluted the photograph. “Gail, the maker of maps!” he said.
CHAPTER XXV
A QUESTION OF EUGENICS
Callers for Mrs. Helen Davies, and a huge bouquet of American beauties for Gail. The latter young lady was in the music room, engaged with Chopin and a great deal of pensiveness, when the interruption occurred, and not quite understanding the specific division of ceremonies, crossed up into the Louis XIV room, where Nicholas Van Ploon and Miss Van Ploon sat with unusual impressiveness.
“We don’t wish to see any frivolous young people,” said Miss Van Ploon playfully, kissing Gail and pinching her cheek affectionately.
“You can’t mean me,” laughed Gail, turning to receive the outstretched palm of Nicholas, who, to her intense surprise, bent his round head and kissed her hand.
“Just you,” returned Miss Van Ploon, drawing Gail down beside her. “We consider you the most delightfully frivolous young person in existence.”
“That’s flattering, but is it complimentary?” queried Gail, and she was astounded that Nicholas Van Ploon laughed so heartily. He had folded his hands over his entirely uncreased vest, and now he nodded at her over and over.
“Clever,” he said, “very clever;” and he continued to beam on her.
Miss Van Ploon turned sidewise, to inspect Gail with a fondly critical estimate. The pensiveness which had needed Chopin for its expression, and which had been rather growing since the night of Dick Rodley’s final proposal, had begun to set its slightly etherealising mark upon her.
“You are a trifle pale, my dear,” said Miss Van Ploon anxiously. “We must not allow the roses to fade from those beautiful cheeks,” and Nicholas Van Ploon was at once seriously concerned. He straightened his neck, and bore the exact expression of a careful head of the family about to send for a doctor.