"But I've mapped out a programme for myself already," she went on, "which may take a long time, for if I like a place very much I shan't want to hurry away. For instance, maybe I shall have a whim to come back here and stay a week or a fortnight. You see, some one I loved dearly, long ago, lived in California, and there are parts of the country I want to visit, for his sake as well as my own."
This was a blow in spite of her late confession. But in a moment he took courage. If this girl (who looked eighteen and couldn't be much over twenty) had loved a man long ago, that man must have been a father or an uncle. And with a sense of relief he remembered the miniature frame.
"Would you tell me what parts you want to see most of all?" he asked, with an air of humility which was engaging in a man so big, so strong, and brown.
Angela's eyes smiled mischief.
"Why do you want to know?" she catechized him. "I think you'll admit that after—after several things which have happened, I've a right to ask—a question, before I answer yours."
"I know. You're afraid I'll want to be following you again," said Nick. "But following wasn't in my mind. I want to take you in my new automobile."
She stared in amazement.
"You extraordinary person! As if I could do such a thing!"
"Why not?" He asked it meekly, looking boyish, ready to be rebuked and snubbed—and yet to make his point. "I expect, when you were at home—wherever that was—you were used to travelling sometimes with your maid, in a motor, and nobody else except your chauffeur?" (Nick pronounced this word rather originally, but this was a detail.)
"Certainly. That's entirely different."