“Sometimes I think I am very much older in life than seems to be,” mused Eleanor. “I feel somehow, that I have lived many centuries before this queer modern experience.”
“You must have been reading theosophical books, my dear,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, eyeing Eleanor closely.
“No, I never have. I’m not interested in any such form of research—not yet,” she laughed.
“Nolla, we ought to be going—really! Every time we come here to talk boudoir decorating we switch off into some byway of personal interest, and that makes us come again to get down to work,” said Polly, rising and adjusting her hat, preparatory to saying good-by.
“But what about our round-trip to the South Sea Isles?” was Mrs. Courtney’s query.
“It isn’t coming off, at once, is it? You’ve got to find a group who are companionable, and you’ve got to get the yacht,” said Eleanor.
“It may not take me more than a week to do both. When I make up my mind to a thing, I generally do it,” returned Mrs. Courtney.
“We’d have to gain the consent of our parents before we could even think of taking such a marvellous voyage,” declared Polly.
“But the main point is this: would you really care to go, or would you prefer staying in New York to continue your profession?” asked Mrs. Courtney.
“We’d love to go with you, but I’m not sure I’d want to remain away from my work for a whole year,” was Polly’s thoughtful answer.