Claire was heedless of
their surroundings.
"What does surprise and disturb me," she continued vigorously, "is that
I haven't any sympathy for him. That is gone too; I only have a feeling
that he bitched it. As you may observe, Lee, I am not at all admirable
this morning: a figure of inconsistency. And the reason will amaze you
--I've rather come to envy what they might have had. I am afraid that if
the positions of Mina and me had been reversed I wouldn't have seen you
in New York. I found that out last night when I knew Peyton wasn't
going. What he said over and over was that everything could be just as
it was." She laughed, riding easily, subconsciously, on the snaffle
rein. "Peyton's simplicity is marvelous. In a year, or maybe less, he
will be quite the same as always. I had nothing to do with it; Peyton
and Mina will go on as fresh as daisies; yet only I'll be damaged or,
anyway, changed. What shall I do about it?" she demanded of Lee Randon,
so sharply that her horse shied.
"About what?" he returned. "My senses are so dulled by your ingratitude
that I can't gather what you mean."
"Well, here I am--a girl with her head turned by a glimpse at a most
romantic play, by cakes and champagne cup, and then sent home to bread
without jam. Since I've known of this it has taken most of the color
out of everyday things, they are like a tub-full of limp rags with the
dye run from them.
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