)
"I've got to pull up, little woman, and get out for
a few days," Max had begun. "Morton's all snarled
up, he writes me, over a mortgage, and I must
straighten it out. I'll leave Bones [the tiger] and
everything just as it is. Don't mind, do you?"
"Mind! Of course I do!" retorted Lucy.
"When did you get this marvellous idea into that
wonderful brain of yours, Max? I intended to go
to Warehold myself to-morrow." She spoke with
her usual good-humor, but with a slight trace of surprise
and disappointment in her tone.
"When I opened my mail this morning; but my
going won't make any difference about Warehold.
Bones and the groom will take care of you."
Lucy leaned back in her chair and looked over
the rail of the porch. She had noticed lately a certain
restraint in Max's manner which was new to her.
Whether he was beginning to get bored, or whether
it was only one of his moods, she could not decide--
even with her acute knowledge of similar symptoms.
That some change, however, had come over him she
had not the slightest doubt. She never had any trouble
in lassoing her admirers. That came with a
glance of her eye or a lift of her pretty shoulders:
nor for that matter in keeping possession of them as
long as her mood lasted.
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