But that this brilliant stranger--this sudden
apparition, who had barely heard the sound of her voice--took that
sort of interest in her that was expressed by the romantic phrase of
which Mrs. Penniman had just made use: this could only be a figment
of the restless brain of Aunt Lavinia, whom every one knew to be a
woman of powerful imagination.
CHAPTER VI
Mrs. Penniman even took for granted at times that other people had as
much imagination as herself; so that when, half an hour later, her
brother came in, she addressed him quite on this principle.
"He has just been here, Austin; it's such a pity you missed him."
"Whom in the world have I missed?" asked the Doctor.
"Mr. Morris Townsend; he has made us such a delightful visit."
"And who in the world is Mr. Morris Townsend?"
"Aunt Penniman means the gentleman--the gentleman whose name I
couldn't remember," said Catherine.
"The gentleman at Elizabeth's party who was so struck with
Catherine," Mrs. Penniman added.
"Oh, his name is Morris Townsend, is it? And did he come here to
propose to you?"
"Oh, father," murmured the girl for all answer, turning away to the
window, where the dusk had deepened to darkness.
"I hope he won't do that without your permission," said Mrs.
Penniman, very graciously.
"After all, my dear, he seems to have yours," her brother answered.
Lavinia simpered, as if this might not be quite enough, and
Catherine, with her forehead touching the window-panes, listened to
this exchange of epigrams as reservedly as if they had not each been
a pin-prick in her own destiny.
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