An affinity of tastes. It was her ambition to travel--she had never
traveled. She delighted in long tramps--heretofore she had found no one
to be her companion. She was sure that automobiling was "just the best
sort of fun," judging
from the one ride she had had. And so time slipped by, and I had
utterly forgotten "Edith" and the other "Mr.
Page," and everything else except one thing, when Mrs. "Ted's" voice,
just outside the barrier of foliage which hid us, complained that
Miss Gans could not be found anywhere. Margery heard, and flushed.
"Come on," she said. "This is disgraceful." She rose. "But----" I
objected. "No buts," she insisted. "Have you forgotten Edith?" "For the
time being," I
She brushed past me. Her bearing was one of indignant scorn. But, over
her shoulder, she remarked, as she looked back: "What a nice place this
would be to eat supper." I replied judiciously that whoever selected it
for that purpose should anticipate the supper hour by early
occupation. I added that it was my intention to pass the intervening
time in the smoking room--alone.
She declared that I smoked too much. In Edith's absence, she supposed,
it was her duty, etc. Supper was at twelve o'clock; eleven-thirty
seemed to be about the right hour to resume occupation of the
bower. Mrs. "Ted" saw us coming to her, and waited. Margery presented
me. Mrs. "Ted" was properly grave. She remarked that she had had the
honor of knowing the gentleman
so long that sometimes she forgot to put the "Mist
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