He even
waited in the kitchen to fill and light his pipe.
McLean had worked himself into a very fair passion. He was
intense, almost theatrical, as he stood with folded arms waiting
for Harmony. So entirely did the girl fill his existence that he
forgot, or did not care to remember, how short a time he had
known her. As Harmony she dominated his life and his thoughts; as
Harmony he addressed her when, rather startled, she entered the
salon and stood just inside the closed door.
"Peter said you wanted to speak to me."
McLean groaned. "Peter!" he said. "It is always Peter. Look here,
Harmony, you cannot stay here."
"It is only for a few hours. To-morrow some one is coming. And,
anyhow, Peter is going to Semmering. We know it is unusual, but
what can we do?"
"Unusual! It's--it's damnable. It's the appearance of the thing,
don't you see that?"
"I think it is rather silly to talk of appearance when there is
no one to care. And how can I leave? Jimmy needs me all the
time--"
"That's another idiocy of Peter's. What does he mean by putting
you in this position?"
"I am one of Peter's idiocies."
Peter entered on that. He took in the situation with a glance,
and Harmony turned to him; but if she had expected Peter to
support her, she was disappointed. Whatever decision she was to
make must be her own, in Peter's troubled mind. He crossed the
room and stood at one of the windows, looking out, a passive
participant in the scene.
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