On the train it had seemed to him that he must explain within the first five minutes; but, now that she was actually within sound of his voice, actually within reach, there seemed to be no hurry. In her presence his confidence increased with every passing minute. For one thing, he could argue with her, and whenever 267 in the past he had argued with her he had succeeded.
“I needed you to explain certain things to me,” he replied.
She looked away from him.
“About what?” she asked quickly.
“About getting me married.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
He could not tell what she meant by the little cry. He would have asked her had they not at that moment turned into a gate that led through an old-fashioned garden to a small white cottage.
“I’ll have to run ahead and prepare Mrs. Halliday,” she said.
So she left him upon the doorstep, and he took off his hat to the cool, pine-laden breeze that came from a mountain in the distance. He liked this town at once. He liked the elm-lined village street, and the snug white houses and the quiet and content of it. Then he found himself being introduced rather jerkily to Mrs. Halliday––a tall, thin New England type, with kindly eyes set in a sharp face. It was evident at once that after her first keen inspection 268 of this stranger she was willing to accept him with much less suspicion than Miss Winthrop.
“I told Sally this morning, when I spilled the sugar, that a stranger was coming,” she exclaimed. “Now you come right upstairs. I reckon you’ll want to wash up after that long ride.”