"I remember Dr. Vivian."
"Well, sit down, both of you," said Hen.
And then Henrietta, with that audacious forwardness which the Cooneys mistook for humor, smiled treacherously at her cousin over the caller's shoulder, and said:
"And entertain each other a moment, won't you? I have got to speak to mother...."
On that Hen left them. Through some bias in its ancient hinges, the parlor door swung to behind her. It shut with a loud click. From behind the other closed doors, the merry voices of the checker-players and rooter grew very audible.
Despite the hostess's cordial injunction, the two young people in the shut Cooney parlor did not immediately sit down and begin to entertain each other. Both remained standing exactly where Hen had left them, and there ensued a hiatus of entertainment just long enough to be quite distinctly appreciable.
Then the absurdity of her--Miss Heth's--feeling constraint before this Mr.--no, Dr.--Vivian, this friend of the Cooneys and malicious attacker of the Cooneys' relatives' characters, rushed over the girl inspiritingly. Then it occurred to her simply to incline her head coldly, and leave the man without a word: dignified that, yet possibly open to misconstruction. So, taking one graceful step toward the door, Carlisle said, with a sufficiency of distant hauteur:
"You can entertain yourself, I hope? I am going."
The tall young man removed his gaze from the blank space left by Hen's exit, with a kind of start, and said hurriedly:
"I hope you aren't letting me drive you away? I--I merely stopped a moment in passing, on a--a professional matter...."