“No doubt.”
“Now, there’s Roland Cary—” went on Mrs. Dick.
“The handsome cousin Polly spoke of the other day?”
“Yes. There’s a dignified person for you. Hum-m! Dignified in some ways, but a perfect dee-vil in others.”
“He must be a very interesting sort. I’d like to meet him.”
“Oh, he—he is interesting. But I’m worried about Madge and Charlie Danton’s case.”
“I agree with Cresap—Miss Yarnell will follow her own course, whatever that may be.”
“I suppose so.”
The bracing air and the dancing yacht, if not the conversation, held Fessenden’s interest for an hour or two. As he headed toward home, the glory of the day put a happy idea into his head. He would return Betty’s picnic of yesterday by a day’s sail on the Wisp. Somehow he would manage to elude his Sandywood responsibilities again.
Darkness always fell long before dinner was served at Sandywood. Therefore, Fessenden, going for a stroll in the wilderness of a garden, ostensibly to indulge in an ante-prandial cigar, found in the dusk no difficulty in extending his walk to White Cottage.