Alice turned away from Lettie, whom she often found rather irritating.
“You do look glum, Sybil,” she said to me, “did somebody want to kiss you?”
I laughed—on the wrong side, understanding her malicious feminine reference—and answered:
“If they had, I should have looked happy.”
“Dear boy, smile now then,”—and she tipped me under the chin. I drew away.
“Oh, Gum—we are solemn! What’s the matter with you? Georgy—say something—else I’s’ll begin to feel nervous.”
“What shall I say?” he asked, shifting his feet and resting his elbows on his knees. “Oh, Lor!” she cried in great impatience. He did not help her, but sat clasping his hands, smiling on one side of his face. He was nervous. He looked at the pictures, the ornaments, and everything in the room; Lettie got up to settle some flowers on the mantel-piece, and he scrutinised her closely. She was dressed in some blue foulard stuff, with lace at the throat, and lace cuffs to the elbow. She was tall and supple; her hair had a curling fluffiness very charming. He was no taller than she, and looked shorter, being strongly built. He too had a grace of his own, but not as he sat stiffly on a horse-hair chair. She was elegant in her movements.
After a little while mother called us in to supper.
“Come,” said Lettie to him, “take me in to supper.”
He rose, feeling very awkward.
“Give me your arm,” said she to tease him. He did so, and flushed under his tan, afraid of her
