Purple eBooks

"Philandering about museums," she continued, "with handsome young ladies
on the pretence of work. Work, indeed! Oh, I heard her telling her
father about it. She thinks you were perfectly enthralled by the mummies
and dried cats and chunks of stone and all the other trash. She doesn't
know what humbugs men are."
"Really, Miss Oman--" I began.
"Oh, don't talk to me!" she snapped. "I can see it all. You can't impose
on _me_. I can see you staring into those glass cases, egging her on to
talk and listening open-mouthed and bulging-eyed and sitting at her
feet--now, didn't you?"
"I don't know about sitting at her feet," I said, "though it might
easily have come to that with those infernal slippery floors; but I had
a very jolly time, and I mean to go again if I can. Miss Bellingham is
the cleverest and most accomplished woman I have ever spoken to."
This was a poser for Miss Oman, whose admiration and loyalty, I knew,
were only equalled by my own. She would have liked to contradict me, but
the thing was impossible.


Pages:
153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177