If they all came--yes, Theo would
have her fun.
She thought of this, as she flirted with the officer from the Presidio,
and promised to make him the hero of her next book. But the party in
Falconer's motor thought of her not at all.
Angela was enchanted with the peninsula of Monterey. In the dark arbour of
the cedar forest Falconer kept ordering the chauffeur of a hired car to
slow down, or stop. The practically minded young man believed that this
great gentleman and the three ladies must be slightly mad. It was so queer
to stop a car when she was going well just to stare around and talk poetry
about a lot of trees.
One of the ladies, the prettiest and youngest, with yellow hair under her
gray motor-bonnet, said they weren't trees but people--either nymphs or
witches--and the rest of the party humoured her, talking nonsense about
Greece and goddesses. He thought the pleasure of a motor trip was "going
some"; but his passengers seemed to have other ideas. They were idiots, of
course, but they seemed mighty happy.
Angela, however, was less happy than the others, less happy than she tried
to seem. She had a dim idea that, if she had come with Nick, she would
have thought this the most beautiful place on earth, and that she had
found the ideal spot for a home.
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