Fuller's red head swung around in dismay. "Good grief, Andy, don't tell me all your relatives are going to be out here! If that's the reason you wanted to visit your boyhood stamping grounds—"
"Relax," Pearce said. "No relatives. I was speaking figuratively. I never had enough relatives to mention. An uncle brought me up, and he departed this vale of tears a long time ago."
Fuller looked relieved. "Relatives make me nervous."
"Then you'd better stop this rattle-trap of yours." Pearce gestured at the trees, now almost abreast of the coupe. "Not that the fact we've arrived has anything to do with it."
Fuller turned the car into a stretch of grass beside the road and braked to a stop. "End of the line!" he announced. Then he glanced at Pearce in uneasy speculation. "Or is it? I hope it doesn't take a stiff hike to get to your boyhood Eden."
"Quit griping," Pearce said. "We're almost there now. And don't forget I promised that this is going to be worth your trouble."
"I'll bet!" Fuller muttered. Despite his skeptical tone, his blue eyes lingered on Pearce in veiled wonder.
Pearce let himself stiffly out of the car. Ellen followed, glancing about her curiously. She was a slim, graceful girl, dark, yet with a quality of glowing vividness. Her shining hair had been cut short in the current fashion, its boyish effect offset by her large, lustrous eyes and full red lips.
She stretched on tiptoe, for a moment standing motionless and statuesque. Pearce watched her with a sudden, flashing intensity. Pain touched him, and regret.