Alexina was used to San Francisco in all her many moods, but to-night, the
wind and the high gray fog shutting out the stars, the silent house--silent
that is but for the mice playing innocently between the walls--her complete
solitude, made her restless and a little nervous.
What could she do?
She knew quite well that she had wanted to go to see Gora for a week. She
had not indulged in any silly dreams about Gathbroke but she was curious to
see his photograph. She remembered that it had crossed her mind that April
day under the oak tree that if he had been older, if he had outgrown his
hopelessly youthful curve of cheek, his fresh color, and the inability to
conceal the asinine condition to which she had immediately reduced him, she
might have given him an equal chance with Morty.
Aileen had said that he looked older. She had a quite natural curiosity to
decide for herself if, had he been born several years earlier, he would
have proved the successful rival in that foundational period of their
youth....Or perhaps she was the reason of his rather sudden maturity.
After all there was no great chasm between twenty-three and twenty-six and
three-quarters. She looked little if any older. Neither did Morty, nor any
one she knew.
This idea thrilled her, and, grimly determined upon no compromise or
evasion, she admitted it.
Moreover, she wanted to sound out Gora.
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