"Why, the stories of gold, of course." Their coming and going did not interest him. "I wonder if you will be in London?" he inquired.
"Oh, of course. I want to see the Queen and the palaces, and Edinburgh, and Holyrood, and all the places those proud old Scots fought over, and poor Marie Stuart! And Sweden and Norway, and the midnight sun, and the Neva, and St. Petersburg——"
She paused, out of breath.
"London is what interests me," he interposed. "And if you could come over next summer——"
She shook her head. "No, it won't be next summer, but it may be the year after," she returned gravely.
"And if it was my vacation. Then I might join you for a few weeks."
"That would be splendid." Her soft eyes glowed.
"I shall keep thinking of that."
"Oh, will you? Then I will think of it, too. And it is queer how time runs away. You hardly notice it until the bells ring out for New Year's."
"I wonder—if you will miss me any?" and his voice fell a trifle, though he tried to keep anxiety out of it.