summer, his experiences in New York, plans for his future. Arthur's interest in Finch was generous and affectionate, but Ada's was mingled with chagrin at the feeling which his presence aroused in her. His awkwardness repelled her to the point of dislike, yet the sadness of his face in repose, the lank fair lock on his forehead, his shapely hands, in contrast to his bony wrists, had a disturbing fascination for her. She knew that he was mystified and attracted by her. It amused her to think that she could play on his sensibilities, yet she had a subtle suspicion that to do so was to risk her own detachment.
Mrs. Leigh joined them, still more like a sister to Ada than a mother, after the exhilaration of their European trip. With her desire to please, she had almost the effect of being younger, or, at any rate, more ingenuous. They talked of Europe. Arthur said: "As soon as you come into your money, Finch, we'll go to Europe together!"
"I shall go, too," said Ada.
"Never! This is to be a vagabond journey. Little girls"—he included his mother in his glance—"will be safer at home. Finch, do you remember, when I talked of our going to Europe last spring, you scoffed at the idea? You said you'd never have the money to go abroad. Now look at you!"
"Yes," agreed Finch serenely, "there's quite a difference."
Mrs. Leigh said: "We didn't know of your grandmother's death until we heard of the legacy. I'm afraid that when Arthur wrote to you he was excited and perhaps forgot to say how sorry we are to hear of your loss."
"I'm afraid I did forget," said Leigh.
"You must miss her. She was extraordinarily vigorous for her age, wasn't she?"
"Yes." . . . The strong old face came before him—blotted out the pretty room, the pretty women. He saw the rust-red eyebrows raised in humorous disdain of such. He saw the toothy grin with which she would have dismissed them. His face lost the animation that had made it attractive and became blank.
