She took her flowers from
Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such
ceremonies very well, and saying, "Shan't we all go out on the terrace?"
placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others) to
the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one Japanese
lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She sank into a
chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue tent-pole. He
could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to this dazzling, if
reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune.
"'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'" she said in a low voice. "What do you
mean?"
"I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere
else." Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and which
the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took little
thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the gladness it
was to be with her again.
"'Somewhere else?' Where?"
"Anywhere."
"Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?"
"The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think."
"But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not
deteriorated very much?"
"No," he said; "it's better than it ever was before."
"What!" she cried, with a little gasp.
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