Even
when he had risen from Morris's coterie to greet Henry MacFarlane
--Ruth's father--his intimate friend for years, and who answered
his hand-shake with--"Well, you old rascal--what makes you look so
happy?--anybody left you a million?"--even then he gave no inkling
of the amount of bottled sunshine he was at the precise moment
carrying inside his well-groomed body, except to remark with all
his twinkles and wrinkles scampering loose:
"Seeing you, Henry--" an answer which, while it only excited
derision and a sly thrust of his thumb into Peter's ribs, was
nevertheless literally true if the distinguished engineer did but
know it.
It was only when the hours dragged on and his oft-consulted watch
marked ten o'clock that the merry wrinkles began to straighten and
the eyes to wander.
When an additional ten minutes had ticked themselves out, and then
a five and then a ten more, the old fellow became so nervous that
he began to make a tour of the club-house, even ascending the
stairs, searching the library and dining-room, scanning each group
and solitary individual he passed, until, thoroughly discouraged,
he regained his seat only to press a bell lying among some half-
empty glasses.
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