“Deed he did! Dat’s what dey all come fur. She so purty dey can’t hep it.”
“How long did he stay?”
“Till atter midnight!”
“Indeed!”
“Yassah!” Maggie went on, walling her eyes with tragic earnestness. “She play de pianer fur ’im long time in de parlour, an’ he sing fur her an’ den she sing fur ’im.”
Steve cleared his throat angrily.
“Yassah! an’ atter dey git froo singin’ she take him out fur er stroll on de lawn an’ dey go way down in de fur corner an’ set in one er dem rustics fur ’bout er hour. Den dey come in an’ bof un ’em set in de moonlight in de hammock right close side an’ side, and he talk low an’ sof, an’ she laugh, an’ laugh, an’ hit ’im wid er fan—jesso! Yassah. Sh! She comin’ now!”
The girl darted out of sight as Stella’s dress rustled in the hall above.
Steve pulled himself together with an effort, and met her at the foot of the stairs.
She made an entrancing picture as she slowly descended the steps, serenely conscious of her beauty and its power over the man below whose eyes were now devouring her. The flowing train of her cream-coloured morning gown made her look a half foot taller than she was. She had always fretted at her diminutive stature, and wore her dresses the extreme length to give her added height.