The older woman was tall and handsome and in her youth must have possessed great beauty; even now she carried with a spoiled air almost girlish the costly gowns and jewels that her husband, proud of her looks, lavished upon her. She had a languid grace very fascinating in its indifference and spoke with a pretty little accent that echoed of the South. For all her attractiveness, Cynthia could not compare in charm with her mother whose femininity lured all men toward her as does a magnet steel.
Bob leaped from the car almost before it had come to a stop and went to her side, bending low over her heavily ringed hand.
"We're so glad to see you, Bobbie!" she smiled. "The very nicest thing that could have happened was to find you here."
"It is indeed a delightful surprise for me," Robert Morton answered. "How are you, Cynthia?"
Cynthia, who was standing in the background, frowned.
"You've been long enough getting here," declared she petulantly. "Where on earth have you been? We decided you must have got stalled on the road."
"Oh, no," interrupted her father, coming up the steps. "We made the run over and back without a particle of trouble. What delayed us was that we stopped to visit with Bob's aunt and the old gentleman with whom he is staying. Such a quaint character, Maida! You really should see him. I had all I could do to tear myself away from the place."
His wife raised her delicately penciled brows.
"We do not often see you so enthusiastic, Richard."
"They are charming people, I assure you. I don't wonder Bob prefers staying over there to coming here," chuckled the financier.