The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (6.1895)

By Evelyn Sharp 163
him ! I thought you had ; he doesn’t understand ! Where’s
auntie ? ”
And she fled across the tessellated floor and left the two friends
face to face.
The ugly boy laughed exultantly.
“ Thought you’d guess, old man, after what I said at dinner.
Has she been trying to tell you, the little brick ? She knows
we’re pals, you see, that’s why.”
“Yes,” said Adrian faintly, “I expect that’s why. Congratu-
late you, Dicky.”
“ Thanks awfully, old chap. I knew you’d be glad,” laughed
Dicky, shaking his hand vigorously ; “ I am beastly lucky, eh ?
See you for a drink after this dance.”
Adrian stood irresolute for a moment when the ugly boy had
gone. He picked one or two flowers to pieces, ground his heel
savagely into them as they lay on the floor, and then strolled aim-
lessly round the edge of azalea under which he had been sitting
with Margaret.
On the opposite side of it he found Mrs. Angelo Milton sitting
alone.
There were only two constructions to be placed on the situa-
tion and he desperately assumed the happiest.
“ Oh, here you are,” he began, with a wretched attempt at
composure ; “I have been looking for you everywhere.”
Cynthia looked him from head to foot without moving.
“ I don’t think I have the pleasure,” she said, with a calm smile ;
“ there seems to be some mistake.”
And Adrian took his dismissal and his departure simultaneously.
“Well, how did your puny little wall-painter take it?” asked
Willis Ruthven the next day.
“ He seemed surprised,” said Cynthia, and concealed a smile.