I don't exact that I shall witness
the mysteries in active operation."
Cope's glance asked Randolph to remain.
"There are no mysteries," returned Hortense. "It's just putting on a few
dabs of paint in the right places."
She continued to take a few dabs from her brushes and to talk tea. "Stay
for a sip," she said.
"Very well; thank you," replied Randolph, and wondered how long "a sip"
might mean.
In the end it meant no longer for him than for Cope; they came away
together. Hortense held Cope for a moment to make a second engagement at an
earlier hour.
Randolph had not met Cope for several days, except at the opera, where he
had left his regular Monday evening seat in the parquet to spend a few
moments in Mrs. Phillips' friend's box. He had never seen Cope in evening
dress before; but he found him handsome and distinguished, and some of the
glamour of that high occasion still lingered about the young man as he now
walked through High Street, in his rather shabby tweeds, at Randolph's
side.
Randolph looked back upon his dinner as a complete success: Pearson was
engaged, and Cope was free.
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