“There are classes, Nat,” she said. “Have you been through one?”
“Not yet. Perhaps we could enter together.”
“Do you think so?” she returned eagerly.
He was looking down at her still—calm, strong.
She started. “I mustn't be late to dinner. Good-by. Sunday, Nat.”
“Not to-morrow? I want some golf.”
“Yes, go. It's a fine links. I'm sorry, but I'd better not go there for the present. Good-by.”
She was gone, so he strolled on and out through the park, and as he went he put two and two together, and suspected the cause of the girl's objection to golf.