And now and again they stopped to look at some fine view from a
commanding height, or flew gayly down some inviting stretch of smooth
road. By and by they were at an old inn, well up on the top of the
world, which King had had in mind from the start, and to which he had
taken time, an hour before, to telephone and order things he had hoped
she would like. When the two sat down at a table in a quiet corner
there were flowers and shining silver upon a snowy cloth, and the food
which soon arrived was deliciously cooked, sustaining the reputation the
place had among motorists. And in the very way in which Anne Linton
filled her position opposite Jordan King was further proof that, in
spite of all evidence to the contrary, she belonged to his class.
Their table was lighted with shaded candles, and in the soft glow Anne's
face had become startlingly lovely. She had tucked a handful of the
shell-pink wild flowers into the girdle of her black dress, and their
hue was reflected in her cheeks, glowing from the afternoon's drive in
the sun. As King talked and laughed, his eyes seldom off her face, he
felt the enchantment of her presence grow upon him with every minute
that went by.
Suddenly he blurted out a question which had been in his mind all day.
"I had a curious experience a while back," he said, "when I first got
out into the world. I was in Doctor Burns's car, and we met some people
in a limousine, touring. They stopped to ask about the road, and there
was a girl in the car who looked like you.
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