It was hardly more than a commonplace to Maggie:
just a tall, white-haired gardener respectfully offering her roses.
And it was hardly more to Joe Ellison: just a tribute evoked by his
hungry interest in every well-seeming girl of the approximate age of
his daughter.
At the moment's end Joe Ellison had bowed and started back for his
flower beds. "Who is that man?" asked Maggie, gazing after him. "I
never saw such eyes."
"We used to be pals in Sing Sing," Larry replied. He went on to give
briefly some of the details of Joe Ellison's story, never dreaming how
he and Maggie were entangled in that story, nor how they were to be
involved in its untanglement. Perhaps they were fortunate in this
ignorance. Within the boundaries of what they did know life already
held enough of problems and complications.
Larry had just finished his condensed history when Dick Sherwood
appeared and ordered them to the veranda for tea. There were just the
five of them, Miss Sherwood, Maggie, Hunt, Dick, and Larry. Miss
Sherwood was as gracious as before, and she seemingly took Maggie's
strained manner and occasional confusions as further proof of her
genuineness. Dick beamed at the impression she was making upon his
sister.
As for Maggie, she was living through the climax of that afternoon's
strain.
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