Аня із Зелених Мезонінів

Chapter XXXIII. The Hotel Concert

           

           “Whatwillyoureciteiftheyencoreyou?”

           “Theywon’tdreamofencoringme,”scoffedAnne,whowasnotwithoutherownsecrethopesthattheywould,andalreadyvisionedherselftellingMatthewallaboutitatthenextmorning’sbreakfasttable.“ThereareBillyandJanenow—Ihearthewheels.Comeon.”

           BillyAndrewsinsistedthatAnneshouldrideonthefrontseatwithhim,sosheunwillinglyclimbedup.Shewouldhavemuchpreferredtositbackwiththegirls,whereshecouldhavelaughedandchatteredtoherheart’scontent.TherewasnotmuchofeitherlaughterorchatterinBilly.Hewasabig,fat,stolidyouthoftwenty,witharound,expressionlessface,andapainfullackofconversationalgifts.ButheadmiredAnneimmensely,andwaspuffedupwithprideovertheprospectofdrivingtoWhiteSandswiththatslim,uprightfigurebesidehim.

           Anne,bydintoftalkingoverhershouldertothegirlsandoccasionallypassingasopofcivilitytoBilly—whogrinnedandchuckledandnevercouldthinkofanyreplyuntilitwastoolate—contrivedtoenjoythedriveinspiteofall.Itwasanightforenjoyment.Theroadwasfullofbuggies,allboundforthehotel,andlaughter,silverclear,echoedandreechoedalongit.Whentheyreachedthehotelitwasablazeoflightfromtoptobottom.Theyweremetbytheladiesoftheconcertcommittee,oneofwhomtookAnneofftotheperformers’dressingroomwhichwasfilledwiththemembersofaCharlottetownSymphonyClub,amongwhomAnnefeltsuddenlyshyandfrightenedandcountrified.

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