She wore the informal, girlish costume of the moment--neatly fitting
dark skirt; simple shirt-waist with the ballooning sleeves that were
then necessary; stiff boyish linen collar propping the chin high, and
little bow tie; darkish, crisply waving hair brought into the best order
possible, parted in the middle and carried around and down over the ears
to a knot low on the neck.
'I brought some candy,' he cried fiercely. 'There! On the table!'
She knit her brows for a brief moment. Then opened the box.
'How awfully nice of you... You'll have some?'
'No. I don't eat candy. I was thinking of--I want to get you out--Come
on, let's take a walk!'
She smiled a little, around a chocolate. Surely she didn't know!
She had seemed, during her first days in Sunbury, rather timid at
times. But there was in this smile more than a touch of healthy
self-confidence. No girl, indeed, could find herself making so definite
a success as Cicely had made here from her first day without acquiring
at least the beginnings of self-confidence. It was a success that had
forced Elbow Jenkins and Herb de Casselles to ignore small rebuffs and
persist in fighting over her. It permitted her, even in a village where
social conformity was the breath of life, to do odd, unexpected things.
Such as allowing herself to be interested, frankly, in Henry Calverly.
So she smiled as she nibbled a chocolate.