Mrs. Clendenning, helpless before this burst of eloquence on the part
of her usually restrained daughter, asked, tartly, "How in the world do
you know what Porter wants or Mary needs?"
"Perhaps," said Grace, slowly, "it is because I am a little like Mary.
But I am older, and I've learned to take what the world gives. Not
what I want. But Mary will never be content with compromise, and she
will always go through life with her head up."
Mary's head was up at that very moment, as with cheeks flaming and eyes
bright, she played hostess to her guests, while in the back of her
brain were beating questions about Roger Poole.
Freed from the somewhat hampering presence of Mrs. Clendenning, Delilah
was letting herself go, and she drew even from grave Gordon Richardson
the tribute of laughter.
"It was an artist that I met at Marblehead," she said, "who showed me
the way. He told me that I was a blot against the sea and the sky,
with my purples and greens and reds and yellows. I will show you his
sketches of me as I ought to be. They opened my eyes; and I'll show
you my artist too. He's coming down to see whether I have caught the
idea."
And now she moved down the steps. "Father will be furious if I keep
him waiting any longer. He's crazy over the car, and when he drives,
it is a regular Tam O'Shanter performance. I won't ask any of you to
risk your necks with him yet, but if you and the General are willing to
try it, Leila, we will take you home."
"I haven't fought in fifty battles to show the white feather now," said
the General, and Leila chirruped, "I'd love it," and presently, with
Barry in devoted attendance, they drove off.
Mary, waiting on the porch for Porter to telephone for his own car,
which was to take them around the Speedway, looked eagerly toward the
fountain. The moon had gone under a cloud, and while she caught the
gleam of the water, the hundred-leaved bush hid the bench. Was Roger
Poole there? Alone?
She heard Porter's voice behind her. "Mary," he said, "I've brought a
heavy wrap. And the car will be here in a minute."
Aunt Isabelle had given him the green wrap with the fur. She slipped
into it silently, and he turned the collar up about her neck.
"I'm not going to have you shivering as you did in that thin red
thing," he said.