Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/225

Rh had disappeared, however. (Stella always maintained it was white vinegar and salt.) Her long curls had disappeared, too. Laurel did her hair up now. Rolled it into a simple knot behind. But the gray eyes with their changing moods from dark to light—like a lake beneath varying skies—were still the same. So was her grave listening manner—like trees on a windless night. She was still slight and sleek in body, too—as un-undulating as a low bas-relief when you draw your hand across its surface, but as possessed of lovely curves, too, and as suggestive of softness and warmth.

"Won't you sit down?" Richard Grosvenor asked her, still holding her hands, though he knew she did not require steadying now. Richard had arranged the pillows so that Laurel would be facing him all the way up to Stag Island.

"Couldn't I paddle, too?"

"Do you want to?"

"I'd like to."

"Oh, all right."

were off ten minutes before the others. Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Grosvenor watched the pretty skiff, with Laurel in the bow and Richard in the stern, disappear like a lazy bird around a clump of trees.

"Richard seems quite taken by her," remarked Mrs. Adams.

Mrs. Grosvenor smiled indulgently. "I can't deny it."

"Well, he certainly shows excellent taste. I think she is a lovely girl."