But she did not admit it. She said that she was through with hope. She said that she did not care whether he came or not. She said she did not want him to come.
He was with Leila Grey, of course.
Well—she was with Johnny Byrd.
She was with him every day, for with that amazing American freedom, Bobby Martin came down to see Ruth every day and the four young people with other couples from the Lodge were always involved in some game, some drive, some expedition.
But it was not accident nor a lazy concurrence with propinquity that kept Johnny Byrd at Maria Angelina's side.
Openly he announced himself as tied hand and foot. His admiration was as vivid as his red roadster. It was as unabashed and clamant as his motor horn. He reveled in her. He monopolized her. In his own words, he lapped her up.
With amazing simplicity Maria Angelina accepted this miracle. It was only a second-rate miracle to her, for it was not the desire of her heart, and she was uneasy about it. She did not want to be involved with Johnny Byrd if Barry Elder should arrive. . . . Of course, if she had never met Barry Elder. . . .
Johnny Byrd was a very nice, merry boy. And he was rich . . . independent. . . . If one has never tasted Asti Spumante, then one can easily be pleased with Chianti.
Her secret dream was the young girl's protection against over-eagerness.
To her young hostess this indifference came as an enormous relief.