Mr. Furrey came up to say good-evening, with his most careful bow.
Lowering his voice, he said:
"There's Miss Dallas and Captain Farnham flirting in Italian."
"Are you sure they are flirting?"
"Of course they are. Just look at them!"
"If you are sure they are flirting, I don't think it is right to look
at them. Still, if you disapprove of it very much, you might speak to
them about it," she suggested, in her sweet, low, serious voice.
"Oh, that would never do for a man of my age," replied Furrey, in good
faith. He was very vain of his youth.
"What I wanted to speak to you about was this," he continued. "There is
going to be a Ree-gatta on the river the day after to-morrow, and I
hope you will grant me the favor of your company. The Wissagewissametts
are to row with the Chippagowaxems, and it will be the finest race this
year. Billy Raum, you know, is stroke of the------"
Her face was still turned to him, but she had ceased to listen. She was
lost in contemplation of what seemed to her a strange and tragic
situation. Farnham was so near that she could touch him, and yet so far
away that he was lost to her forever.
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