CHAPTER XXV
THEY were dining that night at a picturesquely situated resort some thirty miles out of Boston. They had been there on several occasions before, for it combined an excellence of food and service, music and surroundings that was difficult to find within reasonable motoring distance of town. Its patronage was somewhat heterogeneous in character, as with all such resorts, but it was respectable. In fact, Dr. Booth had never taken Reba to any restaurant, dance-hall, or place of amusement where he was not perfectly willing to be seen with a woman other than his wife or sister, should any of his friends chance to run across him there, as they did sometimes. Moreover Reba wouldn't have fitted into too uproarious a place.
Chadwick Booth often smiled over her little prejudices. She strove hard to earn from him the title of all-round-good-sport, but there were certain things he could not persuade her to do. For instance, she would not go out to dinner with him on Sundays; and it appeared that a cocktail, or any form of alcohol, however mild, she recoiled from instinctively. Once in a long while she would acquiesce to a tiny little sip from his glass, and on one or two occasions, in the beginning of their relations (as, for instance, on the picnic on the rocks) she had accepted a glass of her own. But as she knew him better and dared, she refused absolutely to partake of this part of his entertainment.
"But why—why, Becky?" he'd demand impatiently.
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