But
a sudden change came now. In the friendly freedom of the green-banked
alcove, Sharlee's gayety dropped from her like a painted mask, which,
having amused the children, has done its full part. Against the back of
the cushioned settle where they sat she leaned a weary head, and frankly
let her fringed lids droop.
At another time West might have been pleased by such candid evidences of
confidence and intimacy, but not to-night. He felt that Sharlee, having
advertised a delightful gayety by her manner, should now proceed to
deliver it: it certainly was not for tired sweetness and disconcerting
silences that he had sought this _tete-a-tete_. But at last his failure
to arouse her on indifferent topics became too marked to be passed
over; and then he said in a gentle voice:--
"Confess, Miss Weyland. You're as tired as you can be."
She turned her head, and smiled a little into his eyes. "Yes--you don't
mind, do you?"
"Indeed I do, though! You're going altogether too hard--working like a
Trojan all day and dancing like a dryad all night. You'll break yourself
down--indeed you will!"
Hardly conscious of it herself, Sharlee had been waiting with a tense
anxiety of which her face began to give signs, for him to speak.
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