Ralph Towne would not have been himself, if he had not bent and kissed her lips; and she would not have been herself, had she not received it gravely and gladly. After that it was not easy to go in among the talkers and the lights; she stood longer than a moment on the piazza, schooling herself to bear scrutiny, to answer with unconcern; still she felt dizzy and answered the first questions rather at random.
“Going around in the dark has set your wits to wool-gathering,” said her mother.
“You did not come alone, daughter?” asked her father.
“We are very hungry,” said Mr. Hammerton.
“We will talk over the book before chess, Gus, if you please. I have some packing to do, and I am very tired.”
“A young widow is a beautiful sight,” observed Mrs. Wadsworth pathetically.
“Probably some one will think so,” said Mr. Hammerton, speaking quickly to save Tessa from replying.
“Take off your things, Tessa,” said Dinah. “I want my supper.”
“It’s _his_ night, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Hammerton, teasingly; Dinah colored, looked confused, and ran down-stairs to ring the tea-bell.
The door-bell clanged sharply through the house as they were rising from the table. “I was young myself once,” remarked Mr. Hammerton.
“I don’t believe it,” retorted Dinah, putting her hands instinctively up to her hair.
“You’ll do, run along,” laughed her father. “Oh, how old I feel to see my little girls becoming women.”
“I should think Tessa would feel old,” replied Mrs. Wadsworth, significantly.
“I do,” said Tessa, rising. “Where is your criticism, Mr. Critic; I have some packing to do to-night, so you may cut me to pieces before chess.”
“No matter about chess,” said Mr. Wadsworth.
“Then run up and talk over your bookish talk, mother and I will come up presently.”
The sitting-room was cozy and home-like, even after the luxury of Mrs. Towne’s handsome apartment. “I don’t want to go away,” sighed Tessa, dropping into a chair near the round black-and-green covered table. “Why can’t people stay at home always?”
“Why indeed?” Mr. Hammerton moved a chair to her side and seating himself carelessly threw an arm over the back of her chair.
How many evenings they had read and studied in this fashion, with Dine on a low stool, her curly head in her sister’s lap.