It would be wearisome to record their talk, all the way up to the
house. The girl--impetuous, hot-blooded, excitable--poured out her
love-talk like a bird singing. Happiness complete was hers for the
time; but Gavan's heart was not in the wooing, and he listened and
was silent.
Hugh and Mary, walking on ahead, knew nothing of the love scenes
just behind them. They talked of many things, of the moonlight and
the river and the scent of the flowers, but all the time Hugh felt
diffident and tongue-tied. He had not the glib tongue of Gavan
Blake, and he felt little at ease talking common-places. Mary Grant
thought he must be worried over something, and, with her usual
directness, went to the point.
"You are worrying over something," she said. "What is it?"
"Oh, no; nothing."
"It is not because I asked Mr. Blake here, is it?"
"Oh no! Goodness, no! Why, he is fifty times better than most of
the people that come here. It just happens we had never asked him
before. I think he is a very nice fellow."
"I'm glad of that. I have asked him to come out again. He seems to
know Miss Harriott quite well, though he doesn't know your mother."
"Yes, he met Miss Harriott at some of the race-balls, I think. She
is a queer girl, full of fancies."
"She seems a very quiet sort of girl to me," said Miss Grant.
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