Mr. Denner was the next to arrive, and while he was still making his bow
the Forsythes came in; Dick looking over the heads of the little ladies,
as though in search of some one else, and his mother languidly
acknowledging that it was an effort to come out in the evening. Lois and
the rector came with Colonel Drayton, and Miss Deborah breathed a sigh of
relief that the venison would not be kept waiting.

Then Miss Deborah took Mrs. Forsythe's arm, while Miss Ruth and Dick
closed the little procession, and they marched into the dining-room, and
took their places about the table, glittering with silver and glass, and
lighted by gleaming wax tapers. It had not occurred to the little ladies
to place Dick near Lois. Mrs. Drayton was the lady upon his right, and
Lois was between such unimportant people as Mr. Denner and Mr. Dale.

Dick was the lion of the dinner, and all that he said was listened to
with deference and even awe. But it was a relief to Lois not to have
to talk to him. She sat now at Mr. Denner's side, listening to the
small stream of words bubbling along in a cheerful monotony, with
scarcely a period for her answers. She was glad it was so; for though
her apple-blossom face was drooped a little, and her gray eyes were not
often lifted, and she looked the embodiment of maiden innocence and
unworldliness, Lois was thinking the thoughts which occupied her much of
late; weighing, and judging, struggling to reach some knowledge of
herself, yet always in the same perplexity. Did she love Dick Forsythe?
There was no doubt in her mind that she loved the life he represented;
but further than this she could not go. Yet he was so kind, she thought,
and loved her so much. If, then and there, Dick could have whispered the
question which was trembling on his lips, Lois was near enough to love to
have said Yes.