"Well," Thinkright smiled, "I hope you're not going to lose that ability. It has its place."
Sylvia turned her curly head until she met his shining eyes. "I'm too strong now to play all the time," she said.
Her companion patted her arm. "Mrs. Lem says you are a regular busy bee."
"Yes, but she did perfectly well without me."
Her companion met her gaze for a silent moment and speculated as to what its gravity might mean.
"Are you thinking again of the stage, Sylvia?"
"No, no!" she exclaimed vehemently, for instantly a vision of Nat rose before her. "I"—she hesitated, looked out again to the water and back at her cousin. She was sorely tempted to tell him, but the old motive restrained her in time. That was not the way for the solution to come, merely by making herself a heavier tax upon Thinkright's simple fortunes.
"Then you have some definite idea of what you would like to do?" he asked.
His manner was quiet, but there was a note of mental exultation within him at the healthful symptom.
"Yes, but it isn't time yet to tell you of it."