"And yet," said Margaret, with a little air of temerity, "you seem to be
very good friends."
"Oh, she is very charitable; she sees, I suppose, what is good in me; and
I'll spare you the trouble of remarking that she must necessarily be very
sharp-sighted."
"And I'm not going to destroy your illusion by telling you her real
opinion of you," Margaret retorted.
Henderson begged to know what it was, but Margaret evaded the question by
new raillery. What did she care at the moment what Carmen thought of
Henderson? What--did either of them care what they were saying, so long
as there was some personal flavor in the talk! Was it not enough to talk
to each other, to see each other?
As we sat afterwards upon the piazza with our cigars, inhaling the odor
of the apple blossoms, and yielding ourselves, according to our age, to
the influence of the mild night, Margaret was in the high spirits which
accompany the expectation of bliss, without the sobering effect of its
responsibility. Love itself is very serious, but the overture is full of
freakish gayety. And it was all gayety that night. We all constituted
ourselves a guard of honor to Miss Forsythe and Margaret when they went
to their cottage, and there was a merry leave-taking in the moonlight.
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