"I am at Mrs. Hastings' command," he said, waving both hands, once,
from the wrist.
"You know the place is really only a few blocks from Washington
Square," St. George submitted.
Mrs. Hastings brightened.
"Well, I have some friends in Washington Square," she said, "people
whom I think a great deal of, and always have. If you really feel,
Olivia--"
"I do," said Miss Holland simply, "and let us go now, Aunt Dora. The
brougham has been at the door since I came in. We may as well drive
there as anywhere, if Mr. St. George is willing."
"I shall be happy," said St. George sedately, longing to cry:
"Willing! Willing! Oh, Mrs. Hastings and Miss Holland--_willing_!"
Miss Holland and St. George and the lawyer were alone for a few
minutes while Mrs. Hastings rustled away for her bonnet. Miss
Holland sat where the afternoon light, falling through the corner
window, smote her hair to a glory of pale colour, and St. George's
eyes wandered to the glass through which the sun fell. It was a thin
pane of irregular pieces set in a design of quaint, meaningless
characters, in the centre of which was the figure of a sphinx,
crucified upon an upright cross and surrounded by a border of coiled
asps with winged heads.
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