I wish you always seemed as you do to-night.
But you don't, always." She looked earnestly
and inquiringly into his eyes.
Alexander took her two hands from his
shoulders and swung them back and forth in
his own, laughing his big blond laugh.
"I'm growing older, my dear; that's what
you feel. Now, may I show you something?
I meant to save them until to-morrow, but I
want you to wear them to-night." He took a
little leather box out of his pocket and
opened it. On the white velvet lay two long
pendants of curiously worked gold, set with pearls.
Winifred looked from the box to Bartley and exclaimed:--
"Where did you ever find such gold work, Bartley?"
"It's old Flemish. Isn't it fine?"
"They are the most beautiful things, dear.
But, you know, I never wear earrings."
"Yes, yes, I know. But I want you to
wear them. I have always wanted you to.
So few women can. There must be a good ear,
to begin with, and a nose"--he waved his
hand--"above reproach. Most women look
silly in them. They go only with faces like
yours--very, very proud, and just a little hard."
Winifred laughed as she went over to the
mirror and fitted the delicate springs to the
lobes of her ears. "Oh, Bartley, that old
foolishness about my being hard. It really
hurts my feelings. But I must go down now.
People are beginning to come."
Bartley drew her arm about his neck and went
to the door with her. "Not hard to me, Winifred,"
he whispered.
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