She dwelt upon the last word until the young doctor's face flushed. Then with the sudden transition of mood, which so often perplexed Sommers, she said gently, confidently:
"You are quite right. My journey did me no good. There were worries, and we can't go away this summer. The business situation will keep papa here, and he is so lonely without me that I hadn't the heart to suggest leaving him. So we have taken a house at Lake Forest. I shall teach you golf at the new Country Club, if you will deign to waste your time on us. You will see more of these good people."
"You must think me—" Sommers began penitently.
"Yes, they would say 'raw' and 'green.' I don't know. I must go now."
A few minutes later, Sommers met Colonel Hitchcock in the dressing room. As he was leaving, the old merchant detained him.
"Are you going north? Perhaps you will wait for me and let me take you to the city. Louise is going on to a dance."
Sommers waited outside the room. From the bedroom at the end of the hall came a soft murmur of women's voices. He hoped that Miss Hitchcock would appear before her father took him off. He should like to see her again—to hear her voice. Every moment some one nodded to him, distracting his attention, but his eyes reverted immediately to the end of the hall. Men and women were passing out, down the broad staircase that ended in front of the intelligent portrait. The women in rich opera cloaks, the men in black capes carrying their crush hats under their arms, were all alike; they were more like every other collection of the successful in the broad earth than one might have expected.
Sommers caught bits of the conversation.
"Jim has taken the Paysons' place."
"Is that so? We are going to York."