“If I were a full-fledged artist I would ask you to let me paint a portrait of you. As I am not, I would never be able to do you justice. I am sure Mr. Winslow would make a wonderful picture! Why don’t you allow him the chance? Then he would not be lonely this winter and you would learn to know each other and I am sure——”
Sheila Mason was returning her glance, laughing and frowning.
“No romancing, please, Tory, now or ever! If you start I shall refuse to get out at the evergreen cabin, and have the chauffeur motor me back home. You girls are pretty good usually, but I observed a tendency on Dorothy’s part a week or ten days ago to make me figure in a romance and this afternoon you are drawing perilously near. Please understand, dear, that romance is over for me forever, and let us never speak of it. I am ever so much happier with you Girl Scouts than I dreamed I could be.”
The younger girl bit her lips.
“I’ll try to remember,” she returned apologetically, “but really, Sheila, don’t you think you are young to talk as if love and romance have ended for you? Think of Uncle Richard and Memory Frean! They never say anything and yet now and then I cannot help guessing they must be a little sorry. I have been considering the men I have met in Westhaven and really no one of them is half as nice as you are; but Mr. Winslow is different. I beg your pardon. I won’t speak of this again. Don’t be angry; I’ll change the subject and never refer to it. There are several other things I really want dreadfully to talk to you about.
“Don’t you think it odd that I have never heard a word from Dorothy or Kara since Dr. McClain and Dorothy reached New York? I can’t imagine whether it is because Lance is so ill, or because something has developed about Kara. Still, I don’t see how a letter from Lance’s friend, Mr. Moore, can have any connection with Kara. I don’t really think so. Only, I nearly always am thinking of her.”
A silence fell between the girl and her companion and the sensation of annoyance passed from Sheila Mason. Girls of Tory’s age and the other Girl Scouts were inclined to be sentimental, not in regard to themselves but their older friends. The sentiment Tory had just uttered was not hers alone. Now and then Sheila’s own mother protested that she must not sacrifice her entire life to a memory. She was altogether too young and pretty.
Either with her mother or Tory, Sheila did not agree. The other girl’s devotion to Katherine Moore always made an appeal to her.
At this moment she slipped her hand inside her companion’s.