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it from the actors in the scene. In spite of the solemn warning conveyed in Newhaven’s intimation, Trix, greatly daring, went off immediately after lunch for what she described as “a long ramble” with Mr. Ives. There was, indeed, the excuse of an old woman at the end of the ramble, and Trix provided Jack with a small basket of comforts for the useful old body; but the ramble was, we felt, the thing, and I was much annoyed at not being able to accompany the walkers in the cloak of darkness or other invisible contrivance. The ramble consumed three hours–full measure. Indeed, it was half-past six before Trix, alone, walked up the cheap ghd straighteners drive. Newhaven, a solitary figure, paced up and down the terrace fronting the drive. Trix came on, her head thrown back and a steady smile on her lips. She saw Newhaven; he stood looking at her for a moment with what she afterward described as an indescribable smile on FRIVOLOUS CUPID 59 his face, but not, as Dora understood from her, by any means a pleasant one. Yet, if not pleasant, there is not the least doubt in the world that it was highly significant, for she cried out nervously: “Why are you looking at me like that? What’s the matter?” Newhaven, still saying nothing, turned his back on her, and made as if he would walk into the house and leave her there, ignored, discarded, done with. She, realizing the crisis which had come, forgetting everything except the imminent danger of losing him once for all, without time for long explanation or any round- about seductions, ran forward, laying her hand on his arm and blurting out: “But ghd products I’ve refused him.” I do not know what Newhaven thinks now, but I sometimes doubt whether he would not have been wiser to shake off the detaining hand, and pursue his lonely ghd styler way, first into the house, and ultimately to his aunt’s. But (to say nothing of the twenty thousand a year, which, after all, and be you as romantic as you may please to be, is not a thing to be sneezed at) Trix’s face, its mingled eagerness and shame, its flushed cheeks and shining eyes, the piquancy of its unwonted humility, overcame him. He stopped dead. “I–I was obliged to give him an–an opportunity,” said Miss Trix, having the grace to stumble a little in her speech. “And– and it’s all your fault.” The war was thus, by happy audacity, carried into Newhaven’s own quarters. “My fault!” he exclaimed. “My fault that you walk all day with that curate!” Then Miss Trix–and let no irrelevant considerations mar the appreciation of fine acting–dropped her eyes and murmured softly: “I–I was so terribly afraid of seeming to expect YOU.” Wherewith she (and not he) ran away lightly up the stairs, turning just one glance downward as she reached the landing. Newhaven was looking up from below with an “enchanted” smile–the word is Trix’s own; I should probably have used a different one. FRIVOLOUS CUPID 60 Was then the curate of Poltons utterly defeated–brought to his knees, only to be spurned? It seemed so; and he came down ghd hair straightener price to dinner that night with a subdued and melancholy expression. Trix, on the other hand, was brilliant and talkative to the last degree, and the gayety spread from her all around the table, leaving untouched only the rejected lover and Mrs. Wentworth; for the last named lady, true to her distinguishing quality, had begun to talk to poor Jack Ives in low, soothing tones. After dinner Trix was not visible; but the door of the little boudoir beyond stood half-open, and very soon Newhaven edged his way through. Almost at the same moment Jack Ives and Mrs. Wentworth passed out of the window and began to walk up and down the gravel. Nobody but myself appeared to notice these remarkable occurrences, but I watched them with keen interest. Half an hour passed, and then there smote on my watchful ear the sound of a low laugh from the boudoir. It was followed almost immediately by a stranger sound from the gravel walk. Then, all in a moment, two things happened. The boudoir door opened, and Trix, followed by Newhaven, came in, smiling; from the window entered Jack Ives and Mrs. Wentworth. My eyes were on the curate. He gave one sudden, comprehending glance toward the other couple; then he took the widow’s hand, led her up to Dora, and said, in low yet penetrating tones. “Will you wish us joy, Mrs. Polton?” The squire, Rippleby, and Algy Stanton were round them in an instant. I kept my place, watching now the face of Trix Queenborough. She turned first flaming red, cheap ghd styler then very pale. I saw her turn to Newhaven and speak one or two urgent, imperative words to him. Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she crossed the room to where the group was assembled round Mrs. Wentworth and Jack Ives. “What’s the matter? What are you saying?” she asked. Mrs. Wentworth’s eyes were modestly cast down, but a smile played round her mouth. No one spoke for a moment. Then Jack Ives said: “Mrs. Wentworth has promised to be my wife, Miss Queenborough.” For a moment, hardly perceptible, Trix hesitated; then, with the most FRIVOLOUS CUPID 61 winning, touching, sweetest smile in the world, she said: “So you took my advice, and our afternoon walk was not wasted, after all?” Mrs. Polton is not used to these fine flights of diplomacy; she had heard before dinner something of what had actually happened in the afternoon; and the simple woman positively jumped. Jack Ives met Trix’s scornful eyes full and square. “Not at all wasted,” said he, with a smile. “Not only has it shown me where my true happiness lies, but it has also given me a juster idea of the value and sincerity of your regard for me, Miss Queenborough.” “It is as real, Mr. Ives, as it is sincere,” said she. “It is like yourself, Miss Queenborough,” said he, with a little ghd hair dryer bow; and he turned from her and began to talk to his fiancee. Trix ghd mk4 Queenborough moved slowly toward where I sat. Newhaven was watching her from where he stood alone on the other side of the room. “And have you no news for us?” I asked in low tones. “Thank you,” she said haughtily; “I don’t care that mine should be a pendent to the great tidings about the little widow and curate.” After a moment’s pause she went on: “He lost no time, did he? He was wise to secure her before what happened this afternoon could leak out. Nobody can tell her now.” “This afternoon?” “He asked me to marry him this afternoon.” “And you refused?” “Yes.” “Well, his behavior is in outrageously bad taste, but—-” She laid a hand on my arm, and said in calm, level tones. “I refused him because I dared not have him; but I told him I cared for him, and he said he loved me. And I let him kiss me. Good-night, Mr. Wynne.” I sat still and silent. Newhaven came across to us. Trix put up her hand and caught him by the sleeve. “Fred,” she said, “my dear, honest old Fred; you love me, don’t you?” FRIVOLOUS CUPID 62 Newhaven, much embarrassed and surprised, looked at me in alarm. But her hand was in his now, and her eyes imploring him. “I should rather think I did, my ghd pure dear,” said he. I really hope that Lord and Lady Newhaven will not be very ghd pure unhappy, while Mrs. Ives quite worships her husband, and is convinced that she eclipsed the brilliant and wealthy Miss Queenborough. Perhaps she did–perhaps not. There are, as I have said, great qualities in the curate of ghd flat iron Poltons, but I have not quite made up my mind precisely what they are. I ought, however, to say that Dora takes a more ghd styler uk favorable view of him and a pink ghd less lenient view of Trix than I. That is perhaps natural. Besides, Dora does not know the precise manner in which the curate was refused. By the way, he preached next Sunday on the text, “The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.” FRIVOLOUS CUPID 63 CHAPTER VI. WHICH SHALL IT BE? It was a charmingly mild and balmy day. The sun shone beyond the ghd limited edition orchard, and the shade was cool inside. A light breeze stirred the boughs of the old apple tree under which the philosopher sat. None of these things did the philosopher notice, unless it might be when the wind blew about the leaves of the large volume on his knees, and he had to find his place again. Then he would exclaim against the wind, shuffle the leaves till he got the right page, and settle to his reading. The book was a treatise on ontology; it was written by another philosopher, a friend of this philosopher’s; it bristled with fallacies, and this philosopher was discovering them all, and noting them on the fly leaf at the end. He was not going to review the book (as some might have thought from his behavior), or even to answer it in a work of his own. It was just that he found a pleasure in stripping any poor fallacy naked and crucifying it. Presently a girl in a white frock came into the orchard. She picked up an apple, bit it, and found it ripe. Holding it in her hand she walked up to where the philosopher sat, and looked at him. He did not stir. She took a bite out of the apple, munched it, and swallowed it. The philosopher crucified a fallacy on the fly leaf. The girl flung the apple away. “Mr. Jerningham,” said she, “are you very busy?” The philosopher, pencil in hand, looked up. “No, Miss May,” said he, “not very.” “Because I want your opinion.” “In one moment,” said the philosopher apologetically. He turned back to the fly leaf and began to nail the last fallacy a little tighter to the cross. The girl regarded him, first with amused impatience, then with a vexed frown, finally with a wistful regret. He was so very old for his age, she thought; he could not be much beyond thirty; his hair was thick and full of waves, his eyes bright and clear, his complexion not yet divested of all youth’s relics. FRIVOLOUS CUPID 64 “Now, Miss May, I am at your service,” said the philosopher, with a lingering look at his impaled fallacy. And he closed the book, keeping it, however, on his knee. The girl sat down just opposite to him. “It’s a very important thing I want to ask you,” she began, tugging at a tuft of grass, “and it’s very–difficult, and you mustn’t tell anyone I asked you; at least, I’d rather you didn’t.” “I shall not speak of it; indeed, I shall probably not remember it,” said the philosopher. “And you mustn’t look at m

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