Mrs. Flaxman presently joined me. Drawing her an easy-chair close to the
cheerful blaze I knelt on the rug beside her, the easier to stroke Fleta,
the pretty Angora cat, who with her rough tongue licked my hand with
affectionate welcome. Presently Mr. Winthrop joined us. His presence at
first unnoticed in our busy chat, I happened to turn my head and saw him
calmly regarding us. "You would make a pleasant picture, kneeling there
with the firelight playing in your hair," he said, coming to my side.
"The picture would be more perfect now that you have joined us."
"No, my presence would spoil it. A child playing with her kitten needs no
other figures to complete the picture."
"Ah, that spoils your compliment."
"Mr. Winthrop very judiciously mixes his sweets and bitters," Mrs.
Flaxman said with a smile.
"Yes; I should be too vain if he gave me a compliment really. I wonder if
he ever will do that?" I looked up into his face and saw that its
expression was kindly.
"You would not wish me to spoil you. If my praising you made you vain, as
you just said it would, that would be the worst unkindness."
"I want you always to be honest with me. A very slight word of praise
then will have its genuine meaning."
"Now that we have once more settled our relations to each other, we will
take our dinners. One must descend from the highest summits to the
trivialities of eating and drinking."
"I have never seen you very high up yet, Mr. Winthrop. I do not think
there is a spark of sentiment in your composition.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149