dogged all his busy interest in his dinner--for which he had made the
plans, as Eleanor, until the term ended, was obliged to go out to
Medfield to give her music lessons; besides, "planning" was not her
forte! But in the thrill of excitement about the dinner and in the
mounting adventure of being happy, she was able to forget her fear that
Mr. Houghton might be "horrid" to Maurice. If the Houghtons didn't like
an elopement, it would mean that they had no romance in them! She was
absorbed in her ardent innocent purpose of "impressing" Maurice's
friends, not from vanity, but because she wanted to please him. As she
dressed that evening, all her self-distrust vanished, and she smiled at
herself in the mirror for sheer delight, for his sake, in her dark,
shining eyes, and the red loveliness of her full lip. In this wholly new
experience of feeling, not only happy, but important,--she forgot Mrs.
Newbolt, sailing angrily for Europe that very day, and was not even
anxious about the Houghtons! After all, what difference did it make what
such people thought of elopements? "Fuddy-duddies!" she said to herself,
using Maurice's slang with an eager sense of being just as young as he
was.

When the guests arrived and they all filed into the private and very
expensive dining room, Eleanor looked indeed quite "stunning"; her
shyness did not seem shyness, but only a sort of proud beauty of
silence, which might cover Heaven knows what deeps of passion and of
knowledge! Little Rose was glowing and simpering, and the two older
ladies were giving each other significant glances. Maurice's "fellows,"
shepherded by their host, shambled speechlessly along in the background.
The instant that they saw the bride they had fallen into dumbness. Brown
said, under his breath to Hastings, "Gosh!" And Hastings gave Morton a
thrust in the ribs, which Morton's dignity refused to notice; later,
when he was at Eleanor's right, the flattery of her eagerly attentive