40/90 Isabelle resolved secretly that she would, if necessary, _force_ herself to like him--she owed it to Sally. Suppose she were terribly disappointed. Sally had painted him in such glowing colors--he was good-looking, "sort of distinguished, when he wants to be," had a line, and was properly inconstant. In fact, he summed up all the romance that her age and environment led her to desire. She wondered if those were his dancing-shoes that fox-trotted tentatively around the soft rug below. |