I'd no idea you were such a--revolutionist." "Evolutionist," he corrected, happy in having touched the subtler note behind their persiflage.

"I've all science on my side for the most direct method." After all, why should he let even the Best Society deal the cards for him?
Should not a man sweep the boards of whatever kept him from his natural mate?
That was on Tuesday, and the Thursday following he had asked the Goodwards to motor over to Lighthouse Reef with him.

He did not know quite what he meant to bring about on this occasion; he had so much the feeling of its being an occasion, the invitation had been so pointedly given and accepted, it was with difficulty he adjusted himself to the discovery on arriving at their hotel with the car, that Eunice had gone to play tennis instead.
"The time is so short," Mrs.Goodward apologized; "she felt she must make the most of it." She had to leave it there, not being able to make a game of tennis in the hot sun seem more of a diversion than the steady pacing of the luxurious car along the road which laced the forest to the singing beaches.

She had to let her sidewise smile do what it could toward making the girl's bald evasion of her engagement seem the mere flutter and hesitancy of besieged femininity.

For the moment she was as much "outside" so far as her daughter was concerned as Peter was of the select bright circle in which she moved.
The way opened before them, beautiful in late bloom and heavy fern, above which the sea wind kept a perpetual movement of aliveness.
"Eunice _will_ miss it," Mrs.Goodward rallied; "such a perfect afternoon!" She gave him the oblique smile again, weighted this time with the knowledge of all that Peter hadn't been able or hadn't tried to keep from her.