"
Simpkins did as he was told, for he did not share Meldon's indifference
to dust. He also wiped his face carefully with a pocket handkerchief,
giving it a streaky look.
"I don't think," said Meldon, "that you've improved your appearance
much by that last performance. You were better before. But never
mind. Miss King has seen you at your best, the Sunday afternoon I
brought you up to call, and she'll recollect what you looked like then.
In any case, nothing you can do will make you as ghastly as you were
that day on the yacht. If she put up with you then, she won't mind you
now. Come on."
They left their bicycles near the gate, and walked up together along
the avenue.
"Pull yourself together now, Simpkins," said Meldon. "The crisis of
your life is almost on you. When we turn the next corner you'll see
Miss King seated on a wicker chair on the lawn, waiting for you. At
first she'll pretend not to see us; though, of course, she will see us
out of the corner of her eye. When we get quite close, so close that
she can't possibly ignore us any longer, she will look up suddenly,
cast down her eyes again with a blush, and exhibit every sign of
pleasurable embarrassment.
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