Her supposition proved correct: no sooner had the Gays returned to their own bungalow after supper than a motorboat chugged its way across the river and anchored at their dock. A moment later Clifford Hunter stepped out.
As Mary Louise had said, he was not a good-looking young man. His height was only medium, and he was so thin that even expensive tailoring could not make his clothes look well. But his big nose and his sandy complexion were offset by a pleasant smile and attractive gray eyes, which somehow made you feel as if you had known Cliff Hunter all your life.
“Hello, Mary Lou!” he called as he came towards the porch. “Heard you were here!”
He whistled a gay tune as he ascended the steps, and smiled.
“Not so homely after all,” Jane thought as she looked into his pleasant face. And his white flannels and dark blue coat were certainly becoming. They evidently did not wear sweaters at the Royal Hotel.
“Hurry up!” returned Mary Louise. “We’re dying to hear the news!”
“Yes, of course.” He shook hands with Mary Louise and her mother and was introduced to Jane.
“Sit down, Clifford,” urged Mrs. Gay.
The young man fumbled in his pocket and produced a pack of cards.
“In a minute, thank you, Mrs. Gay,” he replied. “But first—take a card, Mary Lou. I know some bully new tricks.”