Another night as he
was passing her room he saw her stretched upon the floor, her head
supported by her elbows and an open book in front of her. She looked so
childlike that Howard paused and said: "What is it--a fairy story?"
"No, it's a love story," she replied, just glancing at him with a faint
smile and showing that she did not wish to be interrupted. The same night
as he was going to bed he heard the angry voices of the two girls. A week
later, toward the end of July, he found Alice sitting on the front stoop,
when he came from dinner. She was obviously in the depths of the "blues."
Her eyes, the droop of the corners of her mouth, even the colour of her
skin indicated anxiety and depression. She looked so forlorn that he said
gently: "Wouldn't you like to walk in the Square?"
She rose at once. "Yes, I guess so." They crossed to the green. She was
wearing the pale-blue gown and it fitted her well. Neither in the gown nor
in the big hat with its coquettish flowers nodding over the brim was there
much of fashion. But there was a certain distinction in her walk and her
manner of wearing her clothes; and to a pretty face and a graceful form was
added the charm of youth, magnetic youth.
"Do you want to walk?" she asked, lassitude in her voice.
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