“I’d like to go there,” remarked Kennedy.
“Very well. Car or boat?”
“Boat, I think.”
“Suppose we go in my little runabout, the Streamline II? She’s as fast as any ordinary automobile.”
“Very good. Then we can get an idea of the harbor.”
“I’ll telephone first that we are coming,” said Verplanck.
“I think I’ll go, too,” considered Mrs. Verplanck, ringing for a heavy wrap.
“Just as you please,” said Verplanck.
The Streamline was a three-stepped boat which. Verplanck had built for racing, a beautiful craft, managed much like a racing automobile. As she started from the dock, the purring drone of her eight cylinders sent her feathering over the waves like a skipping stone. She sank back into the water, her bow leaping upward, a cloud of spray in her wake, like a waterspout.
Mrs. Hollingsworth was a wealthy divorcée, living rather quietly with her two children, of whom the courts had awarded her the care. She was a striking woman, one of those for whom the new styles of dress seem especially to have been designed. I gathered, however, that she was not on very good terms with the little Westport clique in which the Verplancks moved, or at least not with Mrs. Verplanck. The two women seemed to regard each other rather coldly, I thought, although Mr. Verplanck, man-like, seemed to scorn any distinctions and was more than cordial. I wondered why Mrs. Verplanck had come.