Waffington was dazed. His heart nearly failed him. What did it all mean? What did he mean by thrusting himself into the happiness of this little picnic party? Did she know that he was coming? Why, as a matter of course, she must have known. Why, then, had she not told him?
She came back. Walking slowly she finally stopped within a few feet of the party and said:
“I beg that you, Mr. Waffington, and the others will excuse me for a few minutes.”
“Why, certainly, certainly, Miss Filson,” he replied, almost against his will.
She returned to the carriage and was assisted in by Mr. Texas and disappeared.
Forty-five minutes had elapsed when the carriage again appeared, and Gena Filson alighted and bade Mr. Texas good-bye.
“Well, by giggers! Who is thet jug-headed dude, Genie?” demanded Boaz, as she came up.
“Boaz!” intervened Waffington. “You should always speak politely of gentlemen—of strangers.”
Then the party separated for a time. Boaz and Fen Green went off in the direction of one of the big hotels, while the three Allisons and Emeline Hobbs chose another direction. Paul Waffington was left in the company of Gena Filson. He sat away out on the projecting rock with his feet hanging over the edge, looking out on the matchless scene before him.
“Oh, is it not grand!” ventured Gena Filson.