Minot was thinking hard. So Harrowby was auntie's triumph? And was he not Cynthia Meyrick's as well? He would have given much to be able to inquire.
Suddenly, with the engaging frankness of a child, the girl asked:
"Has your engagement ever been announced, Mr. Minot?"
"Why—er—not to my knowledge," Minot laughed. "Why?"
"I was just wondering—if it made everybody feel queer. The way it makes me feel. Ever since one o'clock—I ought never to say it—I've felt as though everything was over. I've seemed old! Old!" She clenched her fists, and spoke almost in terror. "I don't want to grow old. I'd hate it."
"It was here," said Minot softly, "Ponce de Leon sought the fountain of youth. When you came up I was pretending the one splashing out there was that very fountain itself—"
"If it only were," the girl cried. "Oh—you could never drag me away from it But it isn't. It's supplied by the San Marco Water Works,
