Louise was going to a party, and the carriage was now announced.
"So you are not coming?" she asked, a trifle complainingly.
"Too tired," said Lester lightly.
"Make my excuses to Mrs. Knowles."
"Letty Pace asked about you the other night," Louise called back from the door.
"Kind," replied Lester.
"I'm greatly obliged."
"She's a nice girl, Lester," put in his father, who was standing near the open fire.
"I only wish you would marry her and settle down.
You'd have a good wife in her."
"She's charming," testified Mrs. Kane.
"What is this?" asked Lester jocularly—"a conspiracy?
You know I'm not strong on the matrimonial business."
"And I well know it," replied his mother semi-seriously.
"I wish you were."
Lester changed the subject.
He really could not stand for this sort of thing any more, he told himself.
And as he thought his mind wandered back to Jennie and her peculiar "Oh no, no!"
There was someone that appealed to him.
That was a type of womanhood worth while.
Not sophisticated, not self-seeking, not watched over and set like a man-trap in the path of men, but a sweet little girl—sweet as a flower, who was without anybody, apparently, to watch over her.
That night in his room he composed a letter, which he dated a week later, because he did not want to appear too urgent and because he could not again leave Cincinnati for at least two weeks.
"MY DEAR JENNIE, Although it has been a week, and I have said nothing, I have not forgotten you—believe me.
Was the impression I gave of myself very bad?
I will make it better from now on, for I love you, little girl—I really do.
There is a flower on my table which reminds me of you very much—white, delicate, beautiful.
Your personality, lingering with me, is just that.
You are the essence of everything beautiful to me.
It is in your power to strew flowers in my path if you will.
"But what I want to say here is that I shall be in Cleveland on the 18th, and I shall expect to see you.
I arrive Thursday night, and I want you to meet me in the ladies' parlor of the Dornton at noon Friday.
Will you?
You can lunch with me.
"You see, I respect your suggestion that I should not call. (I will not—on condition.) These separations are dangerous to good friendship.
Write me that you will.
I throw myself on your generosity.
But I can't take "no" for an answer, not now.
"With a world of affection. "LESTER KANE."
He sealed the letter and addressed it.
"She's a remarkable girl in her way," he thought.
"She really is."
CHAPTER XXI
The arrival of this letter, coming after a week of silence and after she had had a chance to think, moved Jennie deeply.
What did she want to do?
What ought she to do?
How did she truly feel about this man?
Did she sincerely wish to answer his letter?
If she did so, what should she say?
Heretofore all her movements, even the one in which she had sought to sacrifice herself for the sake of Bass in Columbus, had not seemed to involve any one but herself.
Now, there seemed to be others to consider—her family, above all, her child.