“Good-bye, then,” he replied, coldly, it seemed to her.
With a rapid step he crossed the space that intervened between them and caught both her hands in his, and stooping down, would have pressed his lips to hers; but Thea swiftly drew back from him, exclaiming, saucily:
“No, no; you are not really my brother, you know. It is only make-believe.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, flushing hotly, and instantly releasing the little hands.
“I forgive you,” she answered, laughing lightly, and turning to go; but Norman followed her out into the hall.
“I will pay my respects to your friends,” he said, longing for a look at young Bentley, whom he remembered such a short while back as a boy. Now, doubtless, he was sprouting a young mustache, and aspiring to Thea West’s favor. There was Miss Bentley, too, a handsome girl of twenty-five, who was always so cordial when they met. Decidedly he ought to go in and speak to her a moment, and he was gratified at her eager pleasure when he entered.
“It is an honor we did not expect—to have you lay aside your pen to welcome us giddy girls,” she cried, brightly. “But perhaps you have come to scold us for taking Miss West away from her riding-lessons.”
“Not at all, since she has found a better teacher,” he replied, bowing to Cameron Bentley, and adding: “We shall miss her, of course, but old folks, like my mother and myself, must not stand in the way of her enjoyment.”
“Old folks? The idea!” Nell Bentley cried, boisterously, “Why, Diana has been dying to ask you to join our party, but was afraid, knowing you would decline.”
Miss Bentley colored slightly, but stood her ground, and turning to him, said: