“Well, well, let us see.” He placed his hands on her shoulders in the benevolent, paternal fashion she so admired. But she spoiled it by trying to flirt with him as she looked up.
He dropped his hands as if he read the meaning of the coquettish gaze. “Suppose you find a hobby, Thurley; put all your airs and mannerisms into it. It often works for the best good—what shall it be? Collecting butterflies or canes, opening Indian mounds—trying to write a play—discovering the fourth dimension—eh?”
Tears were in her eyes. And the big ache of her heart was changed into a sob which rose in her throat with a penitent murmur.
“You are cruel,” she said in a fierce little rage.
“You funny, lovely, little fool!” he laughed, but in soul-healing fashion. “Just be the old Thurley and we’ll love you as we did at first!” After which he opened the door and went down to her cab, telling her how becoming was the costume she wore as Elsa and promising to send her a book of golf anecdotes which he considered excellent. She drove off feeling somewhat as Hortense Quinby had expressed it—a mere onlooker at something she craved but could never attain. She wanted to rout Caleb from the fire-settle and sit there herself until Bliss Hobart should return, to say to him with the assurance with which loved wives are blessed,
“Darling, how stupid of any one to come in to-night—please bolt the door and finish the story we started. I’ll snuggle down on this cushion and lean against your knee. I like to watch the fire as you read to see the characters slip about the coals.... I’m very silly, Bliss, but there’s no need for me to reform, God made you wise enough for us both!” ...
CHAPTER XXV
Spring brought again the longing for Birge’s Corners. Nothing else appealed to Thurley in the way of a vacation. Europe was barred from the engagement tablet, cruising brought memories of Lissa’s yachting party and society flirted in vain with Thurley to gain her appearance at Allied benefits and bazaars. Beyond a compliance to please her manager, she declined.