“She’s been out nearly two seasons, and she’s a very pretty girl. Nothing could be more amusing than to see her with the dean and her mother. They flutter behind her like two proud, fat sparrows watching a fledgling.”
“The dean’s all right; he was good to me when I was a boy. How’s Dr. Gerry?”
“Just the same!”
Diane stopped to offer more tea, but Overton refused it and set his cup down. She intuitively felt the effort he was making to skim the surface of talk. The strain was too much for her. She rose and went to the fire, kneeling on a low cushion by the hearth, and pretending to watch the blaze, that he might not see her face. There was a brief pause, and then she spoke without looking around.
“Shall you go back?”
“To the antarctic? God knows!”
“The new expedition sails very soon—in a week, I think.”
“Oh, no! I heard this morning that it had been put off.”
He spoke without thinking. Diane turned, her face flushed.
“Arthur went to New York to-day. I—why, it’s because you’ve come, isn’t it?”