And then, quite suddenly, he rose, came across the
room, and standing by her chair, he asked it.
The room had grown terribly still. Even St.
George ceased to purr. Rosemary heard her own
heart beating and was sure John Meredith must hear
it too.
Now was the time for her to say no, gently but firmly.
She had been ready for days with her stilted, regretful
little formula. And now the words of it had completely
vanished from her mind. She had to say no—and
she suddenly found she could not say it. It was
the impossible word. She knew now that it was
not that she could have loved John Meredith,
but that she did love him. The thought of
putting him from her life was agony.
She must say something; she lifted her bowed
golden head and asked him stammeringly to give her
a few days for—for consideration.
John Meredith was a little surprised. He was
not vainer than any man has a right to be, but he
had expected that Rosemary West would say yes.
He had been tolerably sure she cared for him.
Then why this doubt—this hesitation?
She was not a school girl to be uncertain as to her
own mind. He felt an ugly shock of disappointment
and dismay. But he assented to her request with
his unfailing gentle courtesy and went away at once.
“I will tell you in a few days,” said
Rosemary, with downcast eyes and burning face.
When the door shut behind him she went back into the
room and wrung her hands.
At midnight Ellen West was walking home from the Pollock
silver wedding. She had stayed a little while
after the other guests had gone, to help the gray-haired
bride wash the dishes. The distance between
the two houses was not far and the road good, so that
Ellen was enjoying the walk back home in the moonlight.
The evening had been a pleasant one. Ellen,
who had not been to a party for years, found it very
pleasant. All the guests had been members of
her old set and there was no intrusive youth to spoil
the flavour, for the only son of the bride and groom
was far away at college and could not be present.
Norman Douglas had been there and they had met socially
for the first time in years, though she had seen him
once or twice in church that winter. Not the
least sentiment was awakened in Ellen’s heart
by their meeting. She was accustomed to wonder,
when she thought about it at all, how she could ever
have fancied him or felt so badly over his sudden
marriage. But she had rather liked meeting him
again. She had forgotten how bracing and stimulating
he could be. No gathering was ever stagnant
when Norman Douglas was present. Everybody had
been surprised when Norman came. It was well
known he never went anywhere. The Pollocks had
invited him because he had been one of the original
guests, but they never thought he would come.
