“Shall I get your book for you?” asked the young man, as he picked up the rugs.
“Thank you,” answered Miss Earle, with a laugh, “you have already done so,” for, as he shook out the rugs, the two books, which were small handy volumes, fell out on the deck.
“I see you won’t accept my hint about not leaving the books around. You will lose some precious volume one of these days.”
“Oh, I fold them in the rugs, and they are all right. Now, here is your volume. Sit down there and read it.” “That means also, ‘and keep quiet,’ I suppose?”
“I don’t imagine you are versatile enough to read and talk at the same time. Are you?”
“I should be very tempted to try it this afternoon.”
Miss Earle went on with her reading, and Morris pretended to go on with his. He soon found, however, that he could not concentrate his attention on the little volume in his hand, and so quickly abandoned the attempt, and spent his time in meditation and in casting furtive glances at his fair companion over the top of his book. He thought the steamer chair a perfectly delightful invention. It was an easy, comfortable, and adjustable apparatus, that allowed a person to sit up or to recline at almost any angle. He pushed his chair back a little, so that he could watch the profile of Miss Katherine Earle, and the dark tresses that formed a frame for it, without risking the chance of having his espionage discovered.
“Aren’t you comfortable?” asked the young lady, as he shoved back his chair.
“I am very, very comfortable,” replied the young man.
“I am glad of that,” she said, as she resumed her reading.