"Whenever you can get off. Soon?"
"To-morrow, I think."
"That's good."
"I'll join Vaughan." He hesitated, blushed. "He knows you were to ask me to stay?"
"Yes. But not how," was her calm answer.
"I understand." Their eyes met. He colored; but her expression, sweet and grave, did not change. As he went Winchie, seated morosely afar off on the veranda steps, scowled at his back.
That evening Richard said: "Well, I think he's going to stay. How did you manage it?"
"I've asked him to help me with the gardening. He's fond of it."
"A good idea," approved Richard. "I'll back you up."
She gazed silently out over the unruffled lake, so peaceful, so suggestive of peace unchanging, endless—the lazy, graceful sails—beyond, the town among its trees, lights coming out as the dusk gathered.