"
"And I loved your friend, who is Barbara's father," Miss Lavinia said,
rising and facing him.
"As they married each other, why may not we? I know now why my work has
prospered this summer and why life seems good again. Ian's little fancy
shows me the truth."
"Our Mr. and Mrs. were not far off, then," said she, laying her hand on
his, while she looked into his face with one of those rare smiles of
unreserved confidence that makes Lavinia Dorman more fascinating than
half the younger women that I know.
After a moment of romance they waked up to the fact of the present and
its comical aspect; the boys' talk of weddings brought that necessary
episode quickly before them.
"May I tell the Doctor when he returns? Shall we tell them all?" asked
Martin, eagerly, and Miss Lavinia sat suddenly down again and realized
that she still was in the world of responsibilities.
"I think I would rather wait and do it all at once, after--after the pink
ice-cream," she said, as he laughed at her hesitation over the word. "I
don't like keeping it from Barbara, but I'm so tired of talk and fuss and
feathers and Mrs. Grundy." "Then let us get it quietly over next week,
or tomorrow, if you say, unless you wish time to feel sure, or perhaps to
think it over," said Martin, with enthusiasm.
"Time to think it over!" cried Miss Lavinia, springing lightly to her
feet. "No, I'm sure I don't wish to think, I want to act--to do things my
own way and give no one a chance to speak until it is done.
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