Епоха невинності

           Hewentintothesummer-house,andsittingdownonthericketyseatpickedupthesilkenthingandlookedatitscarvedhandle,whichwasmadeofsomerarewoodthatgaveoutanaromaticscent.Archerliftedthehandletohislips.Heheardarustleofskirtsagainstthebox,andsatmotionless,leaningontheparasolhandlewithclaspedhands,andlettingtherustlecomenearerwithoutliftinghiseyes.Hehadalwaysknownthatthismusthappen..."Oh,Mr.Archer!"exclaimedaloudyoungvoice;andlookinguphesawbeforehimtheyoungestandlargestoftheBlenkergirls,blondeandblowsy,inbedraggledmuslin.Aredblotchononeofhercheeksseemedtoshowthatithadrecentlybeenpressedagainstapillow,andherhalf-awakenedeyesstaredathimhospitablybutconfusedly."Gracious—wheredidyoudropfrom?Imusthavebeensoundasleepinthehammock.EverybodyelsehasgonetoNewport.Didyouring?"sheincoherentlyenquired.Archer’sconfusionwasgreaterthanhers."I—no—thatis,Iwasjustgoingto.Ihadtocomeuptheislandtoseeaboutahorse,andIdroveoveronachanceoffindingMrs.Blenkerandyourvisitors.Butthehouseseemedempty—soIsatdowntowait."MissBlenker,shakingoffthefumesofsleep,lookedathimwithincreasinginterest."ThehouseISempty.Mother’snothere,ortheMarchioness—oranybodybutme."Herglancebecamefaintlyreproachful."Didn’tyouknowthatProfessorandMrs.