But," lowering her voice, "he was madly in love with the
butcher's Kate when he was ten, and five years afterward
offered to marry the widow Potts. I thought he had
outgrown the disease. There has been nothing of the kind
since, until this fancy. It is passing off. Of course
it is mortifying enough to think that such a poor
creature as that could attract him for an hour."
"I was to blame," Miss Vance said, with an effort. "I
brought her in his way. But how was I to know that she
was such a cat, and he such---- If he should marry
her----"
Mrs. Waldeaux laughed angrily. "You are too absurd,
Clara. A flirtation with such a woman was degrading
enough, but George is not quite mad. He has not even
spoken of her for days. Oh, here he comes! That is his
step on the stairs." She ran to the door. "He found
that I was out and has followed me. He is the most
ridiculous mother's boy! Well, George, here I am! Have
you thought of some thing new for me to see?" She
glanced at Miss Vance, well pleased that she should see
the lad's foolish fondness for her.
George forced a smile. He looked worn and jaded. Miss
Vance noticed that his usually neat cravat was awry and
his hands were gloveless. "Yes," he said. "It is a lit-
tle church. The oldest in London. I want to show it to
you."
Miss Vance tied on Mrs. Waldeaux's bonnet, smoothing her
hair affectionately. "There are too many gray hairs
here for your age, Frances," she said.
Pages:
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44