Art students -- Fiction; Aunts -- Fiction; Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
But Prince Aglipogue shook his huge head sadly, much to the relief of
both Terry and Ruth, and they walked out together. Ruth was beginning to
feel that she was having an adventure. Something in the restlessness of
the other passengers on the train, who were beginning to look frequently
at watches and to stop the train officials every time they appeared,
something in the sight of the whirling clouds of snow, the thought of
George, some place back there with his strange travelling companion, all
contributed to the undercurrent of excitement, and with it was that
comforting feeling of security that always comes from looking at storm
and snow from a place of warmth and shelter.
Because it was the holiday season the train was crowded and they were
compelled to wait in the narrow hallway with other people in line before
they could get a table.
“Isn’t it wonderful and Christmasy?” she asked, “especially as I’ve
already got one gift; see, I brought it with me. I’d like to look at it
again, only I’m afraid if any of the other passengers saw it they might
suspect me of being a train robber.”
“Yes; you look so much like one. But perhaps it would be just as well
not to look at it now. I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s beautiful, and somehow I feel safer—I mean safer and happier about
Gloria now that I have it.”
“It’s a curious gift to give a girl, but I couldn’t exactly imagine
giving you—”
“Table for two,” interrupted the steward. Ruth wondered what it was that
Terry couldn’t imagine giving her.
Luncheon was like a party. Terry seemed to be making as much effort to
amuse her as he would have made for Gloria, or perhaps he was so
charming that he couldn’t help being charming all the time, she
reflected. He had the most wonderful eyes in the world, and the kindest,
strongest mouth, but she must stop looking at them. Still just for today
she might pretend that he was her lover and that they were engaged,
and—why not pretend that they were actually married and on their wedding
journey? The thought made her gasp.
“Is something wrong? I’ll call the waiter.”
“No, nothing! I was just thinking—of something.”
“Something nice, I hope.”
“Yes, no—I don’t know.” It was horrible to blush like that. If she were
only older and poised and sophisticated. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have
to be pretending. But she would pretend, no matter how bold and
unladylike it was to pretend such things and perhaps she would never be
with him again in just this way, and it would be nice to remember.
In her reckless mood she surprised herself by saying things like Gloria
sometimes. They lingered as long as they dared because it was such a
good way of killing time, and when they had finished she made Terry go
back to the smoker.
“They ought to have smoking cars for women,” she said. It was what
Gloria might have said.
“But you don’t smoke,” said Terry, smiling.
“I know, but I shall learn.”
“Not right away, I hope,” he said, smiling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account