“That would be an adventure—I think I’d rather like it,” said Ruth.
As if he could bear no more the Prince again departed.
“Presently he’ll come back, saying that the air in the smoking car has made his head ache.”
“Don’t you want to go yourself for a smoke? You know you mustn’t think you have to stay here and amuse me,” said Ruth.
“I can live ever so long without a cigarette. Besides I’d rather go when he isn’t there. I’ve been thinking about Gloria. Do you suppose she could have found out about Pendragon and isn’t coming? It would be like her. She could telephone that she’s ill or something.”
“I don’t think so, but of course I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Perhaps Pendragon himself has left and all my worry is for nothing. Who’d ever think an aunt could be such a responsibility?”
She said it so seriously and with such a wistful look that Terry restrained his impulse to laugh.
“An aunt is almost as difficult to chaperon as a modern mother,” he admitted gravely; “but if the snow doesn’t stop snowing she may arrive as soon as we do, and you’ll not have to decide whether to warn the professor or not. After all, it’s no affair of yours. If they’re to meet this way they will meet this way, and it may be rather amusing.”
It was difficult to answer him when he talked like that. Probably his words were prompted by bitterness, but it was maddening to have him sit back as if he were helpless to do anything. If only he would make an effort he could win Gloria away from her present course. He was attractive enough to win any woman. Whether he talked or sat silent, it was good to be with him. Then she remembered the gift he had promised her.
“Oh, you’ve forgotten! I was afraid you would.”