Country homes -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
A mere chance, and yet chance sometimes means fate.
Helen met them with so many questions about Gladys, the boys, and Aunt
Helen, that Jean had no opportunity to unfold her plan for dinner
until Miss Stuart had gone to her room, and she had followed her
sister into the nursery. Helen was tired and travel-worn, but she was
delighted by Jean's thoughtfulness for Lillian's pleasure, and
listened interestedly while her sister anxiously submitted the menu
for her approval.
"Everything is perfect, dear," she said, putting Gladys down from her
lap and making her way out into the hall, "but before I go to dress I
must tell Lillian that we are to have guests to dinner," and she
turned away without noting the shadow that crossed Jean's face at the
mention of Miss Stuart's name.
Miss Stuart stood before her dressing-table arranging the silver
toilet articles which she had just taken from her trunk. She had
thoroughly enjoyed her stay at Newport, and was feeling in a good
humor with all the world. She turned a bright glance of inquiry as the
door opened to admit Helen, and betrayed a ready interest in her
friend's announcement.
"Who are the men?"
"Two officers from the Coast Survey schooner that is anchored here,
Mr. Dudley and Mr. Farr; Valentine Farr."
The little vinaigrette Miss Stuart held in her hand dropped on the
dressing-table. Her face contracted sharply, and she made a quick
instinctive movement away from the light.
"Valentine Farr," she repeated slowly, keeping her voice well under
control. "It must be the same of course."
"Do you know him?" Helen asked the question absent-mindedly, for she
was looking about her critically, to assure herself that everything in
the room was as it should be.
"Oh, yes. I have known him for a long while." She had quite recovered
from her surprise, and spoke lightly, in her usual tone. "What a small
world it is after all."
"Dinner at seven, Lillian," Helen said to her as she closed the door;
and then she was alone.
"So Val is here," she murmured. "Val, of all people in the world." She
flung back her head with a reckless laugh, and began to pace up and
down the room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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