It is nearly always the wrong man who does the masterful stunt, and they live unhappily ever after."
Crispin, only half-hearing, was eager to get to Hildegarde. "It's because people don't pray for good wives and husbands."
Sally stared. "Does any woman ever pray for a good husband?"
"Well, is there anything better that she can do?" asked this astounding young masculine.
Then, seeing an empty chair beside Hildegarde, he went to her, while Sally, left behind, wondered if she dared ask the Lord to give her Merry!
She had a half-feeling that it wasn't the sporting thing to do. What had she ever given the Lord that He should grant her this great favor?
When Crispin came up to Hildegarde, he said:
"Can't I get you away from these people? I want to talk to you."
"I mustn't now. But I could dress early and come down."
"Good. I'll wait for you in the library."
After that Crispin moved about in a dream, saying pleasant things in his gay young voice. One woman described him afterward:
"That young Harlowe is as vivid as a torch. He positively lights the room."
Moving, too, among the guests, was Winslow. He was not vivid, nor did he light the room like a torch. Yet he shed around him a sort of artificial brightness, like steel or the surface of a shallow pool. And as he and Carew stood in the big window talking together, there was about him a baleful glitter.
