“You do. Simply ghastly! You’ve put off your vacation too long this year. When are you taking it?”
“Well, that’s why I got you in to-night, to tell you. I’m taking a little one right away. Going off to-morrow. With Dick. Down to Mount Desert. We’re starting early in the morning. I’m driving. We’ll be there several days. Sailing. Climbing. Dick’s in some sort of difficulty. Something he wants to talk over, anyway. And it’s a good time to go. I can take the proofs with me.”
“Oh, need you? Don’t. It’s too silly, on a vacation! But then it’s too silly to call it a vacation, anyway—a few days! Yes—I’ve seen myself Dick’s worried. But why doesn’t he confide in Harry or me—or Clare? Why does he think he can spill it all out on you—you of all people—who have altogether too much of this talking-it-all-out-stuff in your daily grind! It’s pretty inconsiderate of him, I think. Clare’s wise, capable of complete detachment, and besides all that, utterly devoted to the creature. I suppose it is sympathy he wants. Or perhaps—I wonder—is he all snarled up over Petra? If he is—Clare’s certainly the person to hash that over with!”
Lewis said, “No, I don’t believe Dick has anything on his mind that has to do with Petra. Why do you put that idea into my head, Cynthia? If I had thought it was that—but it isn’t—I’d have gone alone. Cynthia, you are the world’s prize idiot. Do lay off prying and finish your coffee. It must be stone cold. How does Harry abide you! If you start crowing here, they’ll put you in jail as a disturber of the peace. No, you can’t have another cigarette. If I’m going in the morning, I’ve got to get back to work now. It’s fun getting you furious in a position where you have to consider your dignity. You’re really quite sweet, all bottled up like that, but foaming around the cork. Come along, sweetheart. Let’s get going.”
People turned to look at them as they left. Their conversation had been far too animated for husband and wife. No, it was romance, it must be. But how distinguished they were! It was always interesting, dining at the New World! You might catch a glimpse of anybody there. It was cosmopolitan and very chic for Boston.
Chapter Seventeen
Lewis had anticipated three or four days of sailing among the islands about Mount Desert to the tune of blue sea, blue sky, white clouds, whitecaps, and the salt wind over all. But an unprophesied nor’easter did its best to ruin the holiday. The sky was clear when they started from Boston in Lewis’ car (Dick had been unselfish in letting it be Lewis’ car rather than his own) and it stayed clear until they were within sight of the island. Then suddenly the wind changed and every aspect told them that they were in for a likely three days of drifting fog.
“It will have to be golf and walking, I’m afraid,” Dick apologized for his island. “This is rotten luck. And we’ll have to use all the tact we can muster in dealing with the Langleys. They will be humiliated beyond words!”
The Langleys were the married couple, Yankees and native to Mount Desert, who lived on the Wilder estate in Northeast Harbor and were in charge of the place the year around. The elder Wilders for years past had spent most of their time in Europe, returning for a few weeks each winter to their Brookline home, but coming down to their Mount Desert estate almost never. It had tacitly become Dick’s responsibility and playground. Each summer he entertained several house parties here, and often came alone with some friend, as he was doing now, for a few days of sailing and climbing. If at his appearance the weather was not “typical” the Langleys felt it a flaw in their hospitality; and his days here with Lewis, Dick feared now, would be rife with the good couple’s reiterated apologies for the weather—and all the more insistently because the guest of this particular visit was so important a personage.