"Delightful!" she exclaimed, "to enjoy the ocean and coast-scenery after the rush of company has left! While the fashionable season lasts, there is nothing but dress and gossip. You are wise to avoid it."
"I think so," he replied. "Neither my tastes nor my pursuits incline me to mingle in what is termed fashionable society. It makes too large demands upon one's time, to say nothing of the expense or the unsatisfactory nature of its pleasures."
"I agree with you. So you are going to sketch. Would not you and Mr. Easelmann like some company? You will not pore over your canvas all day, surely."
"We should be delighted; I should, certainly. And if you will look at my friend's face just now, as he is talking to your beautiful sister-in-law, you will see that he would not object."
"Do you think Lydia is beautiful?"
The tone was quiet, but the glance questioning.
"Not classically beautiful,—but one of the most lovely, engaging women
I ever met."
"Yes,—she is charming, truly. I don't think her strikingly handsome, though; but tastes rarely agree, you know. I only asked to ascertain your predilections."
"I understand," thought Greenleaf; but he made no further reply.
"Don't be surprised, if you see us before your stay is over,—that is, if Lydia and I can induce Charles to go down with us. Henry is too busy, I suppose."
Charles passed just then; he was endeavoring to form a cotillon, declaring that talk was slow, and, now that the music was over, a dance would be the thing.