"And what with
the lilies," she burst forth desperately in apology for the inopportune
arrival of herself and her escort, "what with the lilies, Prince, and
the water so wet--though, dear me! it was not to be wondered at, of
course--growing wild in the water that way--and only one gown and the
hand bag--though to be sure I can't wear the hand bag, and wouldn't if
I could---Mr. Poynter, with his usual courtesy was good enough to carry
the lilies into camp when I asked him."
"Mr. Poynter was undoubtedly very good, Aunt Agatha," said Diane
quietly, "but the lilies scarcely require any further attention."
Still Mr. Poynter did not stir.
"I regret exceedingly," he said formally to Diane, "that I am unable to
avail myself of your cordial permission to retire. Unfortunately, I
have urgent business with Prince Ronador. Indeed, I have waited for
just such an opportunity as this."
He was by far the calmest of the four. Ronador's violent temper was
rapidly routing his studied composure. Diane's lovely face was flushed
and indignant. Aunt Agatha, making a desperate pretense of sorting the
lilies, was plainly in a flutter and willing to be tearfully repentent
over their intrusion. Not so Philip. There was satisfaction in his
steady glance.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312