“You’re encouraging. But I don’t see what you can do, really. Unless you kill Mr. Hanna,” she added, smiling.
“That would be one way,” Lockwood agreed gravely.
“I didn’t mean that, of course!” Louise cried, shocked. “You didn’t think that I really meant it?”
“Of course not. Neither did I. But Hanna will trip himself up sooner or later. Do what you can to check the spending, and I want to be kept posted as to how things are going. How can you let me know? I don’t suppose I’d be a welcome visitor at your house. You ride often, don’t you? Can’t I go with you again? I can always take an hour off, and if I could meet you any time, morning or evening——”
“Oh, I’m afraid—I’m afraid I couldn’t!” exclaimed Louise, obviously startled at the suggestion, and coloring hotly. She stooped over the reins, looked at her wrist watch.
“It’s almost noon,” she cried. “Goodness! I must go home this minute.”
She turned her horse and started back at a fast canter along the trail.
She kept well ahead and dropped only casual words over her shoulder till they reached the main road. The noon sun beat down fiercely. The yellow dust wavered up like flames around the horses’ hoofs. Here she pulled up, and turned back to him.
“Please don’t come any farther,” she said nervously. “You really have made me feel lots more encouraged. The worst of it was that I never could talk about these things to anybody. And—and I do ride sometimes. I think—I might have to go down the road over the bridge across the bayou—not to-morrow—perhaps the next evening—right after supper——”
“Watch for me on the bridge if you do,” said Lockwood, as she almost broke down in confusion.