Elizabeth Bascomb, gowned in soft gray, with here and there a touch of silver which accentuated the delicate coloring of her cheeks and lent her a certain aristocratic hauteur, came down the steps and stepped lightly into the car. Her brother drew her cloak about her shoulders.
“You look just like Ophelia—in the second act, you know, Bess.”
She accepted his somewhat over-picturesque compliment with a tolerant smile.
“I say, Bess, don’t pay any attention to me. I’m only one of the accessories,—Miss Ross’s place, James,—but you might let me look at you once in a while. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
She turned her full blue eyes toward him and gazed thoughtfully at his eager face, as they sped easily up the long slope of the hill.
“Father told me that Mr. Ross was in town—had been at the office,” she said presently, smoothing the back of her gloved hand pensively. “He said David left the office in a rather peculiar manner.”
“Didn’t know the pater was home. So Davy’s back in civilization again. Well, I’m not surprised. Davy is a stiff-necked beastie at times. Wonder whether he brought Smoke or not? I asked him to in my last letter.”
“I don’t know,” replied his sister. “Papa said he asked for you.”
“Well, he’ll probably show up to-morrow. By Jove, perhaps he’s at his aunt’s now!”
“I had thought of that,” said Miss Bascomb quietly.