Kathleen, propped high on cushions, folded her arms beneath her head.
"But isn't it questionable courtesy for both your hostesses to go to sleep, no matter how sober they may be?" she asked.
"There's another hostess here," he returned, with a brilliant look down into her uplifted eyes.
"Yes, I know," said Kathleen.
"My best girl," said Phil, moving out of the wind-break.
Kathleen smiled. "Yes, I like her, too," she answered. "I never had a lonely moment on this island in my life; so I shall not worry about you. There's another hammock around on the other side of the porch. Why don't you go to sleep yourself?"
"Because I'm afraid I should wake up in Gramercy Park," returned Phil, and, vaulting over the porch railing, he disappeared from Kathleen's view.
Walking to the back of the house, he gazed down at the waters of the cove, then across the field to the long low white farmhouse where he had found Eliza, then back again at the water. "Miss Manning said I should stay here if I had to live under a rock," he reflected.
One week: one week was all he had planned for, although Mrs. Fabian had pressed him for two.