Her color was high, her talk animated and piquant. Even an enemy, had she
had one, would have been forced to admit that she was dazzlingly
beautiful, and inflammable Burt could not be indifferent to her charms.
He knew that he was not, but complacently assured himself that he was a
good judge in such matters.
Mr. Hargrove met them at the door, and his daughter laughingly told him
of her mishap. She evidently reposed in him the utmost confidence. He
justified it by meeting her in like spirit with her own, and he
interpreted her unspoken wishes by so cordially pressing Burt to remain
to dinner that he was almost constrained to yield. "You will be too late
for your own evening meal," he said, "and your kindness to my daughter
would be ill-requited, and our reputation for hospitality would suffer,
should we let you depart without taking salt with us. After all, Mr.
Clifford, we are neighbors. Why should there be any formality?"
Burt was the last one to have any scruples on such grounds, and he
resolved to have his "lark" out, as he mentally characterized it. Mr.
Hargrove had been something of a sportsman in his earlier days, and the
young fellow's talk was as interesting to him as it had been to Miss
Gertrude. Fred, her younger brother, was quite captivated, and elegant
Mrs. Hargrove, like her daughter, watched in vain for mannerisms to
criticise in the breezy youth. The evening was half gone before Burt
galloped homeward, smiling broadly to himself at the adventure.
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