Page:Firecrackers a realistic novel.pdf/109

 The day was crisp and cold, with a brisk wind blowing, but the interior of the automobile was warm and comfortable. For a time the two sat silent. Campaspe did not immediately even look at her new friend. Another might have opened the conversation by remarking, You are wondering why I asked you to come, but Campaspe did nothing of the sort. Instead, she demanded abruptly, as if she had sought him out only to learn the answer, What do you think of Consuelo?

Consuelo? He seemed bewildered, and yet relieved.

The child you met in the flower-shop.

O, the child! I've thought a good deal about her. She interested me. The Persians have a proverb: A tree which comes quickly to maturity never grows very high. He spoke with difficulty. An unwonted embarrassment clouded his tone and gave his phrases a stilted air. He enunciated with great precision, although his intonation was more foreign than usual, with almost a trace of an accent. The car was driving down Riverside Drive. Campaspe ostensibly interested herself with a view of the river.

After a pause Gunnar went on uneasily, as if driven by some invisible pressure to pursue this subject. Is it her father and mother? I mean, have they pushed her?

On the contrary. Her mother is horrified, her