In
a moment she would feel his arms about her and would surprise him by
laying her head back against his breast and putting up her lips to
be kissed.
But, as he delayed, she turned her head ever so slyly. It was not
the heavily shod feet of Tunis Latham she saw. What she saw was a
pair of the very lightest of pearl-gray shoes, wonderful of arch and
heel. Above were slim ankles and calves incased in fiber-silk hose
the hue of the shoes.
She flashed a glance at the face of the stranger, and her gaze was
immediately held by a pair of fixed brown eyes. There were green
glints in the eyes--sharp, suspicious gleams that warned Sheila,
before the other uttered a word, to set watch and ward upon her own
lips. Not that she suspected who the stranger was.
"Good afternoon," was her greeting.
"Is this where the Balls live?" was the demand, with a note in the
voice which betokened both weariness and vexation.
"Yes."
The girl set down her bag and gave a sigh of relief.
"Well, I am glad! I thought I'd never get here. I never did hear of
such a hick place! No taxi, of course, and not even a hack or any
other carriage to be hired. I've walked _miles_. And such a rough
road!"
The parlor settee and easy-chairs had just been brought outdoors
for their weekly beating and dusting.
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