All this soothed Cope. The easy motion of the luxurious car half-hypnotized
him; a scene of unaccustomed splendor and brilliancy lay just ahead... What
wonder that Medora found him scenically gratifying in her box (the dear
creature's titillation made it seem "hers" indeed), and gave his name with
great gusto to the young woman of the notebook and pencil? And the box was
not at the back, but well along to one side, where people could better see
him. Its number, too, was lower; so that, next morning, he was well up in
the list, instead of at the extreme bottom, where two or three of the young
men of means and position found themselves. Some of the girls in his class
read his name, and had no more to say about wet clothes.
Hortense, on the front seat of the car, had had the good sense to say
little and the acumen to listen much. She knew that Cope must "call" soon,
and she knew it would be on some evening when he had been advised that Amy
was not at home. There came, before long, an evening when Amy and George
Pearson went into town for a musical comedy, and Cope walked across once
more to the familiar house.
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