But if he knew, what would he think of Barty?
“I came down in my car,” Terrill went on. “I thought perhaps you’d let me take you for a ride.”
“He’s got to know!” she thought. “Poor thing! At least I can give him some sort of hint.”
But he gave her no opportunity. He said nothing that could be seized upon as an excuse for mentioning that there was a Barty in the offing. It was his way of looking at her, the tone of his voice—intangible things which, of course, he meant her to notice. He very well knew that she did notice them, too.
It was a distressing situation, yet not without zest; for she was young and pretty, and when Mr. Terrill looked at her she felt ten times younger and prettier than when she sat on the sands alone and lonely. She tried not to like this, but she could not help it.
“We could run along the Motor Parkway,” he was saying, “turn off at Philipsville, and go—”
“Philipsville?”
“Yes. Do you know that route, Miss Miles?”
“No, Mr. Terrill,” said she.
He went on to describe the beauties of the trip he proposed. He need not have troubled. Any road that passed through Philipsville was of peculiar interest to Miss Miles. She accepted the invitation very graciously, and off they went.[Pg 213]