"My aunt?" repeated Sybil. "Oh no, not at all--only a friend."
"Oh, I thought all unattached young ladies lived with aunts here, like
Miss Schenectady." Ronald smiled grimly at the recollections of the
previous day.
"Not quite that," said Sybil, laughing. "Mrs. Wyndham is not the least
like Miss Schenectady. She is less clever and more human."
"Really, I am so glad," said Ronald. "And she talks so oddly--Joe's--Miss
Thorn's aunt. Could you tell me, if it is not a rude question, why so many
people here are never certain of anything? It strikes me as so absurdly
ridiculous, you know. She said yesterday that 'perhaps, if I rang the
bell, she could send a message.' And the man at the hotel this morning had
no postage stamps, and said that perhaps if I went to the General Post
Office I might be able to get some there."
"Yes," said Sybil, "it is absurd, and one catches it so easily."
"But would it not be ridiculous if the guard called out at a station,
'Perhaps this is Boston!' or 'Perhaps this is New York?' It would be too
utterly funny.
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