II.
A demure black bow in Elvira’s hair drew Eulalie’s inquisitive glance at dinner the next evening.
“Since when have you taken to vain adornments?” she asked, an edgy emphasis on the pronoun. “It’s miles out of style, you know.”
Elvira received the information with tranquillity.
“Since when have you taken to observing what I wore? Same old bow that has decked me for some weeks. I never regarded it as the latest importation.”
“Oh! I didn’t know but you fancied Mr. Griswold’s uncle was coming again.”
“Not having learned to fish in my youth, I should hardly begin now.” Elvira partook peacefully of her soup.
Mr. Griswold’s uncle came again. When it was time to depart his nephew had to remind him of the fact.
“Your sister’s conversation is so deeply engrossing,” he apologized, blandly, to Eulalie.
“Is it?” Eulalie asked, languidly remote.