But I scarcely think so,
because Margaret insisted afterward--very positively, too--that she
didn't cough at all.
XXII
"Well!" Mr. Woods observed, lengthening the word somewhat.
In the intimate half-light of the summer-house, he loomed prodigiously
big. He was gazing downward in careful consideration of three fat
tortoise-shell pins and a surprising quantity of gold hair, which was
practically all that he could see of Miss Hugonin's person; for that
young lady had suddenly become a limp mass of abashed violet ruffles,
and had discovered new and irresistible attractions in the mosaics
about her feet.
Billy's arms were crossed on his breast and his right hand caressed
his chin meditatively. By and bye, "I wonder, now," he reflected,
aloud, "if you can give any reason--any possible reason--why you
shouldn't be locked up in the nearest sanatorium?"
"You needn't be rude, you know," a voice observed from the
neighbourhood of the ruffles, "because there isn't anything you can do
about it."
Mr. Woods ventured a series of inarticulate observations. "But why?"
he concluded, desperately.
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