He was most unreasonably in the sulks. Clover glanced at him with
surprise, and then at Geoff, who was talking to Marian. He looked a little
serious, and not so bright as in the valley; but he was making himself
very pleasant, notwithstanding. Surely he had the same causes for
annoyance as Clarence; but his breeding forbade him to show whatever
inward vexation he may have felt,--certainly not to allow it to influence
his manners. Clover drew a mental contrast between the two which was not
to Clarence's advantage.
"Who's that fellow anyway?" demanded Clarence. "How long have you known
him? What business has he to be bringing you roses, and making up parties
to take you off on private cars?"
Something in Clover's usually soft eyes made him stop suddenly.
"I beg your pardon," he said in an altered tone.
"I really think you should," replied Clover, with pretty dignity.
Then she moved away, and began to talk to Geoff, whose grave courtesy at
once warmed into cheer and sun.
Clarence, thus left a prey to remorse, was wretched. He tried to catch
Clover's eye, but she wouldn't look at him. He leaned against the
balustrade moody and miserable. Phil, who had watched these various
interludes with interest, indicated his condition to Clover with another
telegraphic wink. She glanced across, relented, and made Clarence a little
signal to come and sit by her.
After that all went happily.
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