THE TOUCHSTONE
hands, which had fallen, as was their wont, into an attitude full of plastic possibilities. One felt them to be hands that, moving only to some purpose, were capable of intervals of serene inaction.
"We had a long talk," Miss Trent went on; and she waited again before adding, with the increased absence of stress that marked her graver communications, "Aunt Virginia wants me to go abroad with her."
Glennard looked up with a start. "Abroad? When?"
"Now—next month. To be gone two years."
He permitted himself a movement of tender derision. "Does she really? Well, I want you to go abroad with me—for any number of years. Which offer do you accept?"
"Only one of them seems to require immediate consideration," she returned with a smile.
Glennard looked at her again. "You're not thinking of it?"
Her gaze dropped and she unclasped her hands. Her movements were so rare that they might have been said to italicize her words. "Aunt Virginia
[ 30 ]
