"Oh, well, mamma," she said, "I have to circulate. Let's circulate some now," she suggested, turning to Ogden. "I'll be ready to go when you are," she called back to her father.
[VII]
"We ave been expecting to see you out at the house again," she said to the young man, as they settled on the stairs. They were seated just below the landing. Her dress, trimmed with silver braid and little groups of flaunting bows, grazed his knees; he could number every stone in the rings that crowded her long, thin fingers. "We didn't suppose a matter of eighteen miles would scare you."
"It doesn't. But you're never home."
"Oh, yes, I am—once in a while. When you do favor us again, get a time-table for the next time after. I never heard of the 'Q.' charging anything for them."
"I will."
"Awfully sudden about Mayme, wasn't it?" she said, with a suddenness of her own. "I didn't suppose it was going to end like that—at least, not right away. I dare say you have been noticing how Cousin Frances looks at me, every now and then. You might think I was the one to blame. She's been talking to mother about it to-night—and me. I guess I'm going home all right enough."
"Don't you want to?"
"Oh, I don't mind. But what's the dif.—far as May me is concerned, I mean? She was bound to have him: she wouldn't have anybody else. It was their affair, wasn't it? Well, then, why not let them manage it?"