It is true that Mrs. Waugh was not present, that good woman being in the
back parlor, sitting at one end of the sofa and making a pillow of her
lap for the commodore's head, which she combed soporifically, while,
stretched at full length, he took his afternoon nap. But Mary L'Oiseau
was there, quietly knotting a toilet cover, and Professor Grimshaw was
there, scowling behind a book that he was pretending to read, and losing
no word or look or tone or gesture of Thurston or Jacquelina, who talked
and laughed and flirted and jested, as if there was no one else in the
world but themselves.
At last a little negro appeared at the door to summon Mrs. L'Oiseau to
give out supper, and Mary arose and left the room.
The professor scowled at Jacquelina from the top of his book for a
little while, and then, muttering an excuse, got up and went out and
left them alone together.
That was a very common trick of the doctor's lately, and no one could
imagine why he did it.
"It is a ruse, a trap, the grim idiot! to see what we will say to each
other behind his back. Oh, I'd dose him! I just wish Thurston would kiss
me! I do so!" thought Jacquelina. "Thurston," and the elf leaned toward
her companion, and began to be as bewitching as she knew how.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186