Mr. Schuyler knew to whom his son referred, and answered, in his usual grave, quiet way:
“She had a fine profile, I thought. Yes, certainly, a remarkable profile.”
They were near the house by this time, and in the excitement of meeting with his sister and the long conversation which followed, Colonel Schuyler hardly thought of Edith again until dinner was announced and she came in with Godfrey. That young man had soon grown tired of listening to talk about people and things dating back to a time he could not remember, and had sauntered out into the grounds in quest of Edith, who was more to his taste than the close drawing-room and the invalid on the couch.
Edith was in the summer-house now, and Godfrey joined her there, and in his pleasant, winning way asked if he was intruding, and if he might come in and occupy one of the chairs, which looked so tempting under the green vines.
“It was an awful bore to hear old folks talk about a lot of antediluvians,” he said; “and if she did not mind he would sit with her awhile.”
Edith nodded assent and motioned him to a chair, which he took, and removing his soft hat and brushing back his curls, he said:
“Now let us talk.”
To talk was Godfrey’s delight; and to Edith’s interrogatory:
“What shall we talk about?” he replied:
“Whatever you like;” and when she rejoined: