"Pretty sure to be," returned King, nodding slowly. "Cherchez la femme. Toujours cherchez la femme." He regarded her for a moment of silence, during which she was so uncomfortable that she raised both hands to arrange an imaginary hairpin at the back of her head.
"Where have you decided to go?" she asked at last, continually warmer under his eyes, and wondering if Fred Whitcomb had had a puncture.
"Why, I thought it would be great to spend long Colorado days in the saddle with you."
"Did you really?" Linda's little laugh had a most discouraging note.
"Yes, but Dr. Young jumped on that. He said I mustn't go within gunshot of your father."
Linda shook her head. "I should advise you not to myself. I'm a pretty good shot."
King looked up. "It would be great, though. Think of having you through with all this college foolery, and having plenty of time to talk to you."
The girl's eyes brightened. "Pray, did you consider Yale foolery?"
"A lot of it, yes," replied King, wearily; "but never mind, Linda, we're through with all that. I thought of the long days out there in Estes Park, the divine air, 'the dark pilasters of the pines,' and you, sparkling and radiant, on a good horse, and I with time enough to tell you how I love you!"
"Bertram!" Linda shot rather than rose to her feet, and her eyes launched arrows.