His arm was about her and he was holding her close. But for the rest, he was determined to treat it lightly.
"Well, you know," he said, "you made a good deal of noise about it, and I thought I recognized the tones."
"But how did you come to set out to look for me? How did you know that I came? Oh, it was brave of you—in this awful fog and with no guide!"
She believed, then, that he had set out purposely to search for her. He would let her think so for the moment.
"Why, that's nothing," he said; "a little run up the mountain is just fun for me, and as for fogs, I've always had a weakness for fogs since a winter in London. I didn't really know you were up here, but that might be the natural conclusion if you weren't at home, or at the Lodge—after what happened yesterday, of course."
"Oh, Frank, forgive me—I was so horrid yesterday."
"Don't mention it—I didn't give it a second thought."
"But, Frank—" then suddenly she stopped, for her eye had caught the basket, and the great fish dangling at his side. "Frank!" she concluded, "where in the world did you get that enormous trout?"
It was no use after that, so he confessed and briefly told her the tale—how it was by accident that he had found her—how he had set out at daybreak to find the wonderful flower.
"And haven't you found it either?" he asked, glancing down at her basket.