“I can return the compliment,” he said, with a pleasant smile. “Now, you have the figure of sixteen and the face of sixty.”
They all involuntarily glanced at Mrs. Stamford’s spare, angular form and weather-beaten face, and found it too true to trifle with.
“What nonsense,” said Norah, with a lightning glance at Bill.
“Ha-ha! I call it rather good,” laughed Dick Stamford.
Mrs. Stamford laughed too, with him; but something pulled tight inside of her. So that was how she looked to her son!
Then they all began to cast surreptitious glances at the clock, and Andy saw that it was already ten minutes past two, though the guests had been invited for one-thirty. The anxious host began to fidget about the room and give distracted replies, and the conversation grew more desultory than ever.
“So this is Mrs. Simpson’s sideboard,” said Norah. “How dreadful in this room! And how weak of you! Don’t you hate it?”
Andy caught sight of Elizabeth’s averted face and for a moment forgot all about the lateness of the luncheon. She was thinking the same thing as he was thinking. Glorious moment!
“Don’t you hate it?” repeated Norah.
“No, I—er—sort of like it now,” said Andy.