In her eyes was restless seeking, in her movements an
energy that could not be exercised in the limits of her little world;
and Claudia, watching her, felt sudden whimsical sympathy. She was
so big, so lordly, so hungrily unhappy.
She held out her hand. "How do you do?" she said. "I am just going
home, as your sister hasn't asked me to dinner. I suppose you will
stay--"
"If there's to be any dinner. Hope has a way of cutting it out every
now and then." He turned to his sister. "Are you going out to-night?"
"I certainly am not, and I'm so glad you've come! I've lots to tell
you and ask you. Won't you stay, Robin?" The question was put
feebly. "Do stay. Oh, I beg your pardon, Claudia, you were so far
off! You haven't met my brother. Winthrop, this is Channing's
cousin, Miss Keith. Please give him some tea, Claudia. I know he's
frozen. Can't you stay, Robin--really?"
"Really nothing! Good-bye." Miss French waved her muff to the man
who, over the teacups, was shaking hands with the girl on the
opposite side of the table, and shook her head as he started toward
her. "Don't come, Jenkins is out there with the car. I'd stay to
dinner, but Hope doesn't enjoy hers if there's a high-neck dress at
the table. Good-bye, Miss Keith; see you to-morrow night, I
suppose.
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