"Don't say that!"
The sharpness of her tone dispelled the confusion in Mrs. Groome's mind.
She hastily buckled on her armor.
"Let us say no more about it. I fancy it will be a long time before there
are any more parties in San Francisco, but when there are--well, I shall
consult Maria. I want your youth to be happy--as happy as mine was. I
suppose you young people can only be happy in the new way, but I wish
conditions had not changed so lamentably in San Francisco....Who is this?"
CHAPTER III
I
As Alexina followed her mother's eyes she flushed scarlet and turned away
her head. A young man was coming up the avenue. He was a very gallant
figure, moderately tall and very straight; he held his head high, his
features were strong in outline. But the noticeable thing about him at
this early hour of the morning and in the wake of a great disaster was his
consummate grooming.
"That--that--" stammered Alexina, "is Mr. Dwight. I met him last night at
the Hofers'."
The young man raised his hat and came forward quickly. "I hope you will
forgive me," he said with a charming deference, "but I couldn't resist
coming to see if you were all right. So many people are frightened of
fire--in their own houses."
"Mr. Dwight--my mother--"
He lifted his hat again. Mrs. Groome in her chastened mood regarded
him favorably, and for the moment without suspicion.
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