“You are a stranger?” he asked pleasantly, and Bles liked him.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, and they fell to talking. He discovered that this was the pastor of the church.
“Do you know no one in town?”
‚ÄúOne or two of my fellow clerks and Mr. ¬ÝStillings. Oh, yes, I‚Äôve met Miss Wynn.‚Äù
“Why, here is Miss Wynn now.”
Bles turned. She was right behind him, the centre of a group. She turned, slowly, and smiled.
“Oh!” she uttered twice, but with difference cadence. Then something like amusement lurked a moment in her eye, and she quietly presented Bles to her friends, while Stillings hovered unnoticed in the offing:
‚ÄúMiss Jones‚ÅÝ‚Äî Mr. ¬ÝAlwyn of‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù she paused a second‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚ÄúAlabama. Miss Taylor‚ÅÝ‚Äî Mr. ¬ÝAlwyn‚ÅÝ‚Äîand,‚Äù with a backward curving of her neck, ‚Äú Mr. ¬ÝTeerswell,‚Äù and so on. Mr. ¬ÝTeerswell was handsome and indolent, with indecision in his face and a cynical voice. In a moment Bles felt the subtle antagonism of the group. He was an intruder. Mr. ¬ÝTeerswell nodded easily and turned away, continuing his conversation with the ladies.
But Miss Wynn was perverse and interrupted. ‚ÄúI saw you enjoyed the concert, Mr. ¬ÝAlwyn,‚Äù she said, and one of the young ladies rippled audibly. Bles darkened painfully, realizing that these people must have been just behind him. But he answered frankly:
‚ÄúYes, I did immensely‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI hope I didn‚Äôt disturb you; you see, I‚Äôm not used to hearing such singing.‚Äù