“Miss Weldon?” asked Eveley, with her friendly smile. “I am Eveley Ainsworth, and this is my friend, Mr. Inglish. Mr. Baldwin could not get away to-night—’way up to his ears in work. But he is coming up to see you later this evening.”
If Miss Weldon was disappointed she gave no sign. Instead she turned to Nolan with frankly approving eyes, remarking his tall slim build, his thin clever face, his bright keen eyes.
“Are you so devoted to business, Mr. Inglish?” she asked, as she opened her small bag and took out a solitaire, which she placed on the third finger of her left hand. At the smiles in the eyes of Eveley and Nolan, she only laughed. “Why flaunt your badge of servitude? But don’t tell Timmy, will you?”
She was indeed very pretty, with warm shining eyes, and a quick pleasant voice. She was full of a bright wit, too, and the drive to Eveley’s Cote in the Clouds was only marred for Eveley by the fact that she, being driver, had to sit in front alone.
“We shall not do much cavaliering in the car,” she thought grimly. “Not when there are only three of us. We’ll walk—three abreast.”
Miss Weldon was enchanted with the rustic steps, but a little fearful of them as well, and appropriated Nolan as her personal bodyguard and support. She squealed prettily at every creak and rumble.
“I shall never try these steps alone, Mr. Inglish,” she said, clinging to his not-unwilling hand. “I shall always wait for you.”
“I’ll roll her down, if she begins that,” thought Eveley.
But in spite of her disapproval, even to her there was something very attractive in the pretty girlish merriment and interest of her young guest.
“I do not see why Nolan had to squeeze in on this,” she said to herself most unfairly.