“If I’d only been born as high up as this, maybe I’d never have got down so low,” she philosophized.
She came around a bend in the road. A man was approaching. He looked up.
“Marta, oh, Marta!”
“Jo!” she cried wildly, looking about for retreat.
Another second, in his arms, she thought no longer of flight.
“Marta, how did you ever get here?” Wild astonishment was visible in Jo’s eyes.
“Mrs. Kingdon sent for me. I’ve been killed with kindness ever since that night I saw you, Jo. I didn’t know you were here. Miss Lamont told me to stay in that place where the vines are until a man came, and to give him this note; but that was long ago. I came out and lost my way. Are you the man she meant?”
“I must be.”
“Does she know that you—that we—”