Then he tried to think again of Rose Lyndsay, but, failing to command the return of his broken day-dream, he went on more swiftly, and once or twice turned again, with inexplicable unease, to look back to where he had seen the figure of the woman set against the darkening greenwood. “Pshaw!” he exclaimed.
CHAPTER XXIII
When on her return Rose went into their cabin she happened to glance at the clock. Then she said:
“What time is your watch, Aunt Anne?” Being told, and discovering that the two timekeepers were unanimous in opinion, she smiled a little, and went on into her own room. Here she went straight to the small mirror and—why, who shall say?—inspected herself briefly, saying, aloud:
“You were a rather big fool, to-day, Miss Lyndsay, and next time you will have your own watch.”
Presently, remembering what he had done with the rose, she concluded that men were hateful. She had seen a good deal of the world, and had had her full share of earnest admiration at home and abroad, so that she was by no means ignorant as to the cause of the gentle tumult in her bosom. She wanted to wish that this man would let her alone, and be but a friendly and pleasant companion. Also she more sincerely desired that the race of bears had been omitted from Noah’s menagerie.
At last she made her toilet, and went out to dinner, where Dick asked, with cruel promptness, why she had not brought that big Boston man over to dine.
“Because I did not ask him.”
“That’s not a reason, Rosy,” said Ned. “I wish he had come.”