In silence, then, the girl and young man walked on for a few moments when Anthony replied: “You must do as you like, of course, Meg. I have no right to ask you anything else. But this understanding between us means everything in the world to me and it was your own offer in the beginning.”
Meg nodded. “Yes, I know; but truly I don’t think as much of my idea as I did at first. Still I am willing to keep quiet for a while longer if you wish it.”
At this moment there was no further opportunity for intimate conversation, for Meg’s Harvard friend, Ralph Brown, made his appearance with a five-pound box of candy, elaborately tied with red ribbon, under his arm, and an expression on his face that suggested politely but firmly that Anthony Graham retire for the present, leaving the field to him.
Of their friends in Boston only Margaret Adams and Richard Hunt had been invited by Esther and Dr. Ashton to have an informal Christmas dinner with them. For the dinner party the evening before had been such a domestic strain upon the little household that they wished to spend the following day quietly. But it was impossible to think of Margaret Adams dining alone in a great hotel, and she would certainly accept no invitation from her wealthier and more fashionable acquaintances in Boston. Moreover, Betty hoped that in the afternoon there might be a chance to talk of Polly. At the beginning no one had dreamed of including Richard Hunt in the invitation, as he was a comparative stranger; but Dick, having taken a sudden fancy to him, had calmly suggested his returning for Christmas day without due consultation with his family.
Five minutes after starting for home with Dick and Esther, Mollie, Betty and Miss Adams, Mr. Hunt, with a murmured excuse which no one understood, asked to be excused from going further. He would join the party later if possible, but should he chance to be delayed dinner must on no account be kept waiting for him.
His conduct did seem rather extraordinary, and although Dick and Esther betrayed no surprise, it was plain enough that Margaret Adams felt annoyed. She had introduced Mr. Hunt to her friends and so naturally felt responsible for his conduct.
Though the man was aware of his apparent eccentricity and though his manners were usually nearly perfect, he now deliberately turned away from the little company. And in spite of his half-hearted suggestion of re-joining them he had little idea at present of when he would return. Deliberately he retraced his steps to the church which he had quitted only a few moments before.
Already the place was nearly deserted. On the sidewalk the clergyman was saying farewell to a few final members of his congregation, while inside the sexton was closing the doors of the two side aisles, although the large door in the center still remained open. Hurriedly Mr. Hunt entered. And there, just as he had hoped to find her, was the figure of a girl sitting in a rather dejected attitude in one of the last pews. She had on a dark dress and a heavy long coat and about her head a thick veil was tied.
Before he could reach her she had risen and was starting away.
“Wait here for a moment, Miss O’Neill; we can find no other spot so quiet in which to have a talk,” the man said sternly.