“Y–es!” drawled Harold slowly. Two minutes later Rhoda happened to look at his face, and wondered why in the world he was smiling to himself in that funny, amused fashion!
Chapter Eighteen.
Tom Arrives.
Tom wrote by return to state that she considered Rhoda “a brick” for sending her such a “ripping” invitation; that it would be “great sport” to see her at home, and that she would arrive by the twelve o’clock train on the next Monday.
“She isn’t pretty,” Rhoda explained anxiously to Harold, the fastidious; “in fact, she’s plain, very plain indeed. I’m afraid you won’t like her, but she likes you. She saw you on the platform at Euston, and said you were a ‘bee-ootiful young man,’ and that she was broken-hearted that she couldn’t stay to make your acquaintance.”
“Good taste, evidently, though unattractive!” said Harold, smiling. “I’m sorry she’s not good-looking, but it can’t be helped. No doubt she makes up for it in moral worth.”
“Well, she does, that’s perfectly true. I loathed and detested her at first, but I’m devoted to her now. She’s just, and kind, and awfully clever, and so funny that you simply can’t be in low spirits when she’s about. All the girls adore her, but you won’t. She says herself that men can’t appreciate her, so she’s going to devote her life to women, out of revenge. Men never care for women unless they are pretty and taking,” cried Rhoda, with an air, and Harold protested sententiously.
“I’m the exception to the rule! I look beyond the mere exterior, to the nobility of character which lies behind. Dear Tom’s lack of beauty is nothing to me. I am prepared for it, and shall suffer no disillusion.”