“When Kate suggested my going—of course, you saw it!”
“I didn’t. ’Twas only your imagination. He urged you to go.”
“Oh, yes, he couldn’t help it!” She hesitated. “I will not go!” she declared.
Yet when the car was at the door she ran downstairs in her pretty pink-and-white gingham, as smilingly fresh and happy as if she had never had a trouble or a perplexing problem.
Lilith looked upon her with wonder and admiration. She wished that she could veil her heart so easily. Polly had herself well under control, there was no doubt about that.
After the chatter of leave-taking both the driver and his companion said little. To be sure, John was seldom very talkative; but Polly was not given to long silences, and now she wondered whether she had better let John have his way or break into his thoughts with commonplaces. In his present mood she hardly dared attempt any reference to the matter which lay closest the door of her heart.
But after waiting in vain for John to speak she grew impatient and began to talk quite casually about the large crop of blackberries apparent on the sides of the road.
At once John came out of his abstraction—if abstraction it was—and they fell into easy conversation.
Soon Polly became bolder. “I hope Patricia will come up while the berries are at their best,” she said, furtively watching her companion. “She delights in them. I wish she were here now.”
“I wish she were,” echoed John fervently—“this very minute!” He was gazing straight ahead, his face set in stern lines.