"Hope, Anthony - Frivolous Cupid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hope Anthony)

Mrs. Mortimer, tried too hard, rose and strolled away. Harry's
set seemed to end almost directly, and a moment later he was
shaking hands with her, still keeping his eyes away from hers.
She made her grasp cold and inanimate, and he divined the
displeasure she meant to indicate.

"You must go and play again," she said, "or talk to the girls.
You mustn't come and talk to me."

"Why not! How can I help it--now?"

The laughing at her and himself had evidently not come, but, bad
as that would have been to bear, his tone threatened something
worse.

"Don't," she answered sharply. "I'm very angry. You were very
unkind and--and ungentlemanly last night."

He flushed crimson.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked, with the terrible simplicity of
his youth.

For all her trouble, she had to bite her lip to hide a smile.
What a question to ask--just in so many words!

"It was very, very wicked, and, of course, I didn't like it,"
she answered. "Oh, Harry! don't you know how wicked it was?"

"Oh, yes! I know that, of course," said he, picking at the straw
of his hat, which he was carrying in his hand.

"Well, then!" she said.

"I couldn't help it."

"You must help it. Oh, don't you know--oh, it's absurd! I'm
years older than you."

"You looked so--so awfully pretty."

"I can't stand talking to you. They'll all see."

"Oh, it's all right. You're a friend of mother's, you know. I
say, when shall I be able to see you again--alone, you know?"

Mrs. Mortimer was within an ace of a burst of tears. He seemed
not to know that he made her faint with shame, and mad with
exultation, and bewildered with terror all in a moment. His new
manhood took no heed, save of itself. Was this being out of