It was partly out of curiosity; partly to kill time; and perhaps not a little for the chance of again meeting the two girls with whom he had been so romantically made acquainted.
He had seen them several times since—at the dinner-table, and elsewhere; but only at a distance, and without claiming the privilege of his outré introduction.
He was too proud to throw himself in their way. Besides, it was for them to make the advance, and say whether the acquaintance was to be kept up.
They did not! Two days had passed, and they did not—either by speech, epistle, bow, or courtesy!
“What am I to make of these people?” soliloquised he.
“They must be the veriest—” He was going to say “snobs,” when checked by the thought that they were ladies.
Besides, such an epithet to Julia Girdwood! (He had taken pains to make himself acquainted with her name.) Not more inappropriate than if applied to a countess or a queen!
With all his gallantry he could not help some spasms of chagrin; the keener, that, go where he would, Julia Girdwood seemed to go along with him. Her splendid face and figure appeared ever before him.
To what was he to attribute this indifference—it might be called ingratitude on her part?
Could it be explained by the promise exacted from him upon the cliff?