When he went away, carrying his valise and things, Pauline accompanied him to the gate which was a good stretch from the big, rambling house. He maintained a peculiar and rigid silence as they strolled down the gravel path that was already covered with fallen leaves. Pauline looked questioningly up at him.
“I wish, dear,” he said, “you would abandon your thought to me; project all your mental energy into mine and let it follow and help the direction of my suggestion.” The Golf-Girl might have doubted the sanity of such a speech; not Pauline; she was used to him. As he withdrew to go and shake hands with Faverham who was near-by; she converted her mind, so far as she was able, into a vacuous blank, abandoning it to his intention. The mental suggestion which Graham rapidly formulated as he held Faverham’s hand, ran somewhat in this wise:
“Pauline is charming, intelligent, honest, sincere. She has depths in her nature that are worth sounding.” He and the girl then walked silently together down to the gate and parted there with a mute pressure of hands.
He looked back as he went down the road. Pauline had turned and was regaining the house. Faverham had abandoned the tennis group and was crossing the lawn to join her. Graham took some fresh mental notes and patted himself metaphorically upon the back.
II
In a letter which Pauline wrote a few days letter to Graham, she said:
“I have not yet begun my notes on the Renaissance and I should have finished them by now! I deserved a scolding and hope you will spare me. The truth is, I have been an idle girl and am quite ashamed of myself. You must have asked your friend Mr. Faverham to pay me a little attention. Were you afraid I should be bored? It was a misdirected kindness, dear, for he causes me to waste much time; he wanted to read Tennyson to me this morning out under the big maple when I had gone to begin those everlasting notes! I prevailed upon him to substitute Browning. I had to save something from this wreck of time! He is a delightful reader; his voice is mellow and withal intelligent, not merely musical. He was amazed at the beauty, the insight, the philosophy of our dear Browning. ‘Where have you been?’ I asked him in some surprise. ‘Oh! in good company,’ he avowed, ‘but you will take me on a voyage of discovery and make me acquainted with the immortals?’ But enough – If you have not yet seen Lilienthal about the Tintoretto” &c &c.
