Grace was no less a beauty than a dreamer, and longed for the kind of change that best suits a girl of her quick, passionate, and impulsive nature—a marriage.
Richard was below the medium size, with very light hair, of slim figure, reticent of speech, shy and bashful, especially so in the presence of Grace, whom he met at parties, donations, and college receptions, so frequent and amusing in their lively village.
Both went too long a distance for their dinner to make the trip agreeable, and both often carried their daily lunches in little baskets for convenience.
On their homeward trips they met occasionally, bowed, passed the time of day, chatted of the last night’s party. It was growing so much of a custom with Richard to meet these road-side appointments, self-made, and well timed to match his lonely companion, that they soon became a matter of each day’s history.
Grace was willing to listen, Richard was anxious to turn aside from his regular pathway and go round a square to bear her company.
They were in love without romance, and against both the belief and expectation of all their associates.
She was the prize of the village; he was neither well-off nor popular, but plain and unhandsome. He was not her only suitor, but the first had taken some pique at her attentions to a stranger in the village, that offended the haughty admirer of her beauty, and each was claimant for her entire devotion.
Miss Hartwell’s father was a tall black-eyed Virginian, warm-blooded, swarthy, and impulsive, and liked not the manner of his daughter’s new friendship.
He put his foot down with emphasis. He insisted on obedience. He wanted position, old family, wealth and social standing, or no marriage.