Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
"That means I’m becoming truthful. Hooray! I see Bill’s happy finish."
He picked up her soft little hand and kissed it. "Velvet and steel," he
said—"the hand that rocks the world! Yes? No? Good-by, you little
wretch! I’m going canoeing with my cousin Diana."
"Did you say that mother has that telegram?" she asked naïvely, sliding
from the window-sill to the floor.
"Yes; and it’s a mile long—a bally serial, Christine—to be continued
this evening, I expect."
They clasped hands at the threshold; then she ran upstairs, and he
sauntered out to the tennis court, where Diana still sat on her high
perch knitting the silken tie, although below her the game had ended and
the players had gone to the terrace for iced tea.
"Well, of all pretty monuments!" he exclaimed. "You have the other one
on the Madison Square tower beaten to a froth!"
"Beware of my arrows," she said, smiling, as the wind blew her scarf
into a silvery arc from her shoulders.
"Arrows? No, I’m wrong; you look like the Angel of the Central Park
Fountain."
"I feel like the dickens," she said, folding her knitting and descending
the steps.
"Headache?"
"No; I merely sat up too late, and I’m sleepy. It’s perfectly horrid
that you can’t stop when you’re winning.... What did you wish me to do,
Jim—canoe with you?"
"I thought you wanted to."
"Is _that_ why you asked me?"
"I wanted to, also. Why do you always put me in wrong, Diana?"
"Jim, _do_ I put you in wrong, as you call it?"
"Sometimes."
"Well, it’s horrid of me. Forgive me. I do try to be such good friends
with you, and somehow I don’t succeed."
"You—we _are_ good friends," he said; "you know perfectly well how I
feel about you."
They had walked as far as the river’s edge, where several green-hulled
canvas canoes lay on the grass.
"Suppose we walk," she said; "shall we? I’m too lazy to paddle. I’m
sleepy, Jim. A walk ought to wake me up."
"I know a ledge where you can take a cat nap," he said. "Accept forty
winks from me, and we’ll paddle afterwards."
So they strolled along the river path, fragrant with mint and vine and
blossom; and presently the cool green of the woods enveloped them, and
their feet pressed the moist, springy leaves of a forest path that led
over little brooks and up a slope of young growth, all checkered with
sun spots, to a vast overhanging ledge of rocks.
"Just look at that moss!" exclaimed Diana. "I believe I’ll sit down on
it this minute. Jim, do sit down. It’s like velvet, and there’s miles
of it; and here is the most enchanting silver birch tree for my back to
rest on, and some wood lilies to look at.... Isn’t this heavenly!"
"Out of sight," he said lazily, stretching himself at her feet and
glancing up at her. "Go ahead with your cat nap. I’ll time you half an
hour."
After a moment he laughed, and her eyebrows went up in a silent
question.
He said: "I never noticed it before. It’s odd."
"Noticed what?"
"How funny they are in outline—your eyes, I mean."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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