"I remember perfectly now. That was you—was it?"
"It was. It was," replied she. "You despised little girls and thought you'd scare me to death."
"But I remember you were game. You didn't scream."
"I guess I was too badly frightened. Do you remember how mother shrieked when she saw from the window what you were up to?"
"Do I? The whipping father gave me bent the whole business into me forever. I wasn't game. How I did howl!"
"I wish I'd heard!" She shivered laughingly. "I feel now how I was suffering when the swing was out over the water and high up among the boughs."
Richard was looking at her curiously. "So, that was you?" he said in an abstracted way. "You certainly didn't look scared.... Helen tells me you're planning to go East in the spring and study landscape gardening.... I see you don't like her having told me. I assure you it was my fault. I asked her point blank. She told me simply the one fact."
"It's not a secret," said Courtney, and she went on to explain, as to an acquaintance who knew nothing of her life, "I used to go to college—up at Battle Field—with a girl named Narcisse Siersdorf. She's made quite a reputation as an architect. We were good friends, and it occurred to me I might get advice from her. She's been wonderfully kind—took an interest right away. We're negotiating. I don't know what'll come of it. I've sent her an account of things I've done, and some pictures."
He looked at the slight, strong figure, at the small and delicate face, at the eyes so feminine yet for all that full of character. "Are you in earnest?" he asked.
"I've got to be," replied she.