It was a pity that the scent had been given such
a silly name!
"If the people of this country can be unconventional when they like, why
shouldn't _I_ be unconventional, if I like?" she asked of the darkness.
"It's so gay and amusing to make believe, and so--beautiful." It occurred
to her that she had just begun to live. Now a door had opened before her
eyes, and she saw a new world that was big and glorious, ready to give her
a welcome.
"There's something in being a married woman, and going about as I choose,"
she thought, "even if it is only in the country of make-believe. Why
shouldn't I do what he asks me to do? I'm only Mrs. May, whom nobody
knows! And it would be _fun_. I haven't had any fun since I was a little,
little girl."
* * * * *
Perhaps Nick had been right to trust his luck to her dreams; or perhaps it
was the influence of the letter. In any case, at eight o'clock next
morning, Angela, with her hair hanging over her shoulders, and dreams
still in her eyes, was ringing up Mr. Hilliard by telephone at the
Alexandria Hotel.
"It's only to say that you may take me--and Kate--and the cat--and some
luggage--to Santa Barbara this morning. That is, if you still want to? Oh,
thanks! You're _very_ kind.
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