A Final Flight and Pursuit

"Well, who is this paragon, anyway? Any one I know? I s'pose I've got to
go."

"Why, she's a Miss Bailey," said the mother, relieved. "Mrs. Wilton
Merrill Bailey's granddaughter. Did you ever happen to meet her? I never
did."

"Never heard of her," growled George. "Wish I hadn't now."

"George!"

"Well, mother, go on. I'll be good. What does she do? Dance, and play
bridge, and sing?"

"I haven't heard anything that she does," said his mother, laughing.

"Well, of course she's a paragon; they all are, mother. I'll be ready in
half an hour. Let's go and get it done. We can come home early, can't we?"

Mrs. Benedict sighed. If only George would settle down on some suitable
girl of good family! But he was so queer and restless. She was afraid for
him. Ever since she had taken him away to Europe, when she was so ill, she
had been afraid for him. He seemed so moody and absent-minded then and
afterwards. Now this Miss Bailey was said to be as beautiful as she was
good. If only George would take a notion to her!

Elizabeth was sitting in a great arm-chair by the open fire when he
entered the room. He had not expected to find any one there. He heard
voices up-stairs, and supposed Miss Bailey was talking with her hostess.
His mother followed the servant to remove her wraps, and he entered the
drawing-room alone. She stirred, looked up, and saw him.

"Elizabeth!" he said, and came forward to grasp her hand. "I have found
you again. How came you here?"