Free The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) by Grace Livingston Hill Page A

and searched with eager eyes the faces of those seated about the tables, he could not find Patty Merrill nor her double. 
    The dining-room was long and built of glass, opening on three sides to the mountain scenery. The sun, like a great red ball of fire-opal, slid down in majestic display behind pines and juniper and fir, sending long purple and gold bars through the interstices and left a gorgeous sky behind to linger and glow and die slowly into the deep purples and blues of night The brilliant lights of the dining-hall began to be felt with the dessert and coffee. 
    “Doggone his fool hide! He isn't impressed at all!” mused his uncle, gulping his black coffee and eying his nephew savagely. “Where in thunder did he get that cool manner? One would think he had been a millionaire all his life! If he wasn't my nephew I'd call him an upstart! And he is! Of course he is! An upstart! But I like him and I'm going to keep him! That manner will go all right, only he mustn't work it on me/ I won't have it! I'll teach him he can't go that way with me! He's got to knuckle down and do as I say or I won't have anything to do with him! I'll teach him!” 
    Meantime, Patty Merrill, in a pleasant suite of rooms on the third floor of the hotels stood at a window watching the sunset and trying to calm her excited heart and think what had really happened. 
    She had unpacked Miss Cole's bags, hung up her belongings, and spread out her toilet articles with unaccustomed but intelligent Angers, and a kind of childish pleasure. It was like playing dolls or taking a part in a bit of comedy, this posing as a lady's maid and companion. It really amused her. Miss Cole did not seem a hard woman to please, and so far their relations had been entirely amicable. Now and then during the journey she had lifted her eyes to find those of the older woman upon her in a frank questioning stare. A stare that would have seemed almost impertinent if it had not been kindly. She felt too much alone in this great experiment she had launched herself upon, to resent a pleasant look, so she had answered it by a flush and a smile which somehow seemed always to turn the look, and once or twice had brought an answering smile. 
    Miss Cole was lying on the couch in the sitting-room of the apartment, a steamer rug over her feet, and her head upon a linen pillow that always accompanied her on her journeys. She had closed her eyes and said she would rest until dinner was brought up; and Patty, feeling herself dismissed for the time being, drifted over to the window and dropped down upon the broad window-seat Looking into the heart of the valley where the shadows among the pines were deepest and smokiest she began to feel sad and full of vague fears and uneasiness. Was that really John Treeves that she had seen downstairs, or was it only her imagination? How would he be here? And if it were really her old comrade, what ought she to do about it? 
    Since leaving New York her situation had been so entirely novel and amusing that she had had very little leisure to think it over or become depressed. Now, however, the full force of her exile came upon her. She was a fugitive, and must remain unknown. It would not do to be recognized by this young man who knew her family, whose mother had been a dear intimate of her mother in their childhood days, and who would undoubtedly think it his duly to persuade her to return home if he knew she was here under an assumed name; would very likely consider it his duly to let her family know of her whereabouts. Not that he would be disloyal to her wishes if he knew all, she was sure, for he had been a wonderful friend, but how could she possibly explain the unloving attitude of her mother and sister that had made it impossible for her to remain at home? No, for the sake of her father, and the honor of the family she must remain hidden, much as she might desire to renew the acquaintance of the beautiful summer which seemed now so long ago.