Gertrude stole a glance at him, and he tried to look inscrutable, and failed. Then they both laughed.
"You are keeping something back; tell me all about it," Gertrude commanded.
"I am afraid you will be very angry if I do."
"I shall be quite furious if you don't. My! how close that rock was!"
The train was storming up the canyon, dodging back and forth from wall to wall, roaring over diminutive bridges, and vying with the foaming torrent at the track-side in its twistings and turnings. The noise was deafening, but it was bearable, since it served to isolate them.
"Does the compact mean that we are to have no secrets from each other?" he asked, not daring to anticipate the answer; but Gertrude parried the direct question.
"What do two people who are trying to be very young and foolish and irresponsible know about secrets?" she demanded. "You are beating about the bush, and I won't have it. Tell me!"
For reply, he took the telegram from his pocket, opened it, smoothed it carefully on his knee, and handed it to her. She read it at a glance, and a faint flush came and went in her cheek, but whether of vexation or not he could not determine.
"You are very daring," she said, passing the square of paper back to him, and her voice was so low that he barely caught the words.
"You told me I wasn't to do anything that I meant to do: I certainly did not premeditate intercepting your telegrams—or answering them," he added.