"I don't mind in the least, and the
ride will do you good."
"But you are not going to see my father about toys," Ulrich told her,
twinkling, as he followed her to the back of the shop.
"Do you think I was going to tell her that?"
She put on her coat and hat and off she went with Ulrich, leaving still
unread in the pocket of the big apron the letter which Bruce McKenzie
had written her.
All the way out Ulrich was rather silent. It was not, however, the
silence of moodiness or dullness, it was rather as if he wanted to hear
her speak. It was, indeed, a responsive, stimulating silence, and she
glowed under his glance.
It seemed to her, as she talked, that these adventures with Ulrich
Stoelle were in every way the most splendid thing that had happened to
her. They were always unexpected, and they were packed to the brim
with pleasure of a rare quality.
When they reached their destination, Ulrich took her at once to the
hothouses. As they passed down the fragrant aisles, she found that all
the men and gone, their day's work over; only she and Ulrich were under
the great glass roof.
"Anton comes back later," Ulrich explained, "but at this hour the
houses are empty, and dinner will not be ready for as hour.
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