The scent of
box filled the air, and little new green leaves had put out on the dusky
windings of the maze.
As Abel approached, Molly was moving slowly away from him, her long
black skirt, which had been made to fit Mrs. Gay, trailing over the
snowdrops in the path. When she turned at the end of the walk, there
was the faintest hesitancy in her manner before she came forward with a
smile and an outstretched hand. In some subtle way she had changed--he
felt it before she reached him--before she uttered a word. He had never
seen her in a long dress until to-day; and in putting on Mrs. Gay's gown
she seemed to have clothed herself in that lady's appealing and pensive
manner. The black skirt, flowing between them on the grass, divided them
more completely than the memory of their quarrel. He was chilled because
it made her appear reserved and distant; she was embarrassed because
she had not yet learned to walk in a train, and while it pleased and
flattered her with a sense of dignity, it also caused her to feel
awkward and unnatural in her movements, as if she were not "playing up"
successfully to the part that had been assigned her.
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