CHAPTER XIIITÊTE-À-TÊTE
The place where Larry and Phillida waited for the train was something more than a village, and not quite a town. It supported three hotels. Two of them were in the ordinary country style, unchanged in many years, solid places no doubt, but uninviting. The third place set up to be an automobile roadhouse, and while probably the poorest eating-house of the three, with its gay electric sign, the cars standing in the driveway and the screened porch with little tables, it was inviting. Thither Larry led Phillida. In his present humour none but the “best” would do.
Seated opposite Phillida on the porch with a rosy-shaded light on the table and flowers in a glass, he was filled with a queer, shaky pleasure that he did not stop to examine very closely. What of it? He had
