Within ten minutes the few last scattering
semblances of gayety had passed, and they lapsed into the longest
and most profound of all their silences indoors that day. Its
effect upon Penrod was to make him yawn and settle himself in his
chair.
Then Mr. Blakely, coming to the surface out of deep inward
communings, snapped his finger against the palm of his hand
impulsively.
"By George!" he exclaimed, under his breath.
"What is it?" Margaret asked. "Did you remember something?"
"No, it's nothing," he said. "Nothing at all. But, by the way, it
seems a pity for you to be missing the fine weather. I wonder if
I could persuade you to take a little walk?"
Margaret, somewhat to the surprise of both the gentlemen present,
looked uncertain.
"I don't know," she said.
Mr. Blakely saw that she missed his point.
"One can talk better in the open, don't you think?" he urged,
with a significant glance toward Penrod.
Margaret also glanced keenly at Penrod. "Well, perhaps." And
then, "I'll get my hat," she said.
Penrod was on his feet before she left the room.
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