Mrs. Bowen came in. From the fact that there was no greeting between her and Mr. Morton, Colville inferred that she was returning to the room after having already been there. She stood a moment, with a little uncertainty, when she had shaken hands with him, and then dropped upon the sofa beyond Effie. The little girl ran one hand through Colville's arm, and the other through her mother's, and gripped them fast. "Now I have got you both," she triumphed, and smiled first into her face, and then into his.
"Be quiet, Effie," said her mother, but she submitted.
"I hope you're better for your drive to-day, Mrs. Bowen. Effie has been telling me about it."
"We stayed out a long time. Yes, I think the air did me good; but I'm not an invalid, you know."
"Oh no."
"I'm feeling a little fagged. And the weather was tempting. I suppose you've been taking one of your long walks."
"No, I've scarcely stirred out. I usually feel like going to meet the spring a little more than half-way; but this year I don't, somehow."
"A good many people are feeling rather languid, I believe," said Mrs. Bowen.
"I hope you'll get away from Florence," said Colville.
"Oh," she returned, with a faint flush, "I'm afraid Imogene exaggerated that a little." She added, "You are very good."