“I like John; he is a good boy; but you can not expect me not to be disappointed about Gus!”
“You think that Gus is every thing.”
“I think that he is enough.”
“Perhaps—perhaps—” but Dinah became confused and dared not finish.
Tessa felt her thought. Perhaps—but what a queer perhaps; who could imagine it?
The sharp Faber scribbled upon waste paper for some minutes; it scribbled dates and initials and names, and then “Such as I wish it to be.”
“There goes Dr. Towne,” said Dinah.
Tessa lifted her head in time for a bow. Then she scribbled, “A nightingale made a mistake.”
The letter in her pocket had closed thus: “You have the faculty of impressing truth in a very pleasant manner; your characters are spirited, your incidents savor of freshness, your style is rather abrupt however, it will be well to consider that.”
A busy life, busy in the things that she loved best, was her ideal of happiness.