She had joined him as he stood on the beach. “Thank you,” she said gravely, “but I’m going with you.”
“Really, this is rather—rather——”
“Impossible,” she supplied. “Yes, I’ll agree to anything you like to say of me, but, Mr. Fessenden, it’s very important for me to go with you—to your appointment.”
He stared, bewildered not only by her audacity, but by her apparent knowledge of his plans.
“Do you deny that you have an appointment with some one near here?” she demanded.
“I don’t deny it. But what if I have? This is too ridiculous! I don’t know how you know where I’m bound, but—I don’t want to be rude, Miss Yarnell—but even if you do know, I don’t see how it matters to you.”
“It does matter to me,” she said, sudden passion in her voice. “It matters terribly.”
Her suppressed excitement, her entire seriousness, could no longer be doubted.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “I think you must be making some mistake.”
“No, no. I don’t know exactly where you’re going, I admit, but I know who it is you’re going to see.”