"Dolly says she's a de luxe binding of a French novel on a copy of 'Handley Cross.' I guess it's true. But I've always been afraid of Rita."
"Why?"
"She's too infernally clever. She don't like my sort. She likes brainy chaps with serious purposes. They're the kind that always take to her. I think she knows I'm 'wise.'"
They crossed hands, and Camilla resolutely gave herself over to the pleasure of motion. She skated rather badly—a fact to be bewailed, since Rita Cheyne was doing "figure eights" and "corkscrews," but with Haviland's help she managed to make three or four turns without mishap. But she refused to "crack the whip," and skated alone until Cortland Bent joined her. He offered her his hand, but she refused his help.
"Won't you go away please, Cort?"
"I've got to see you to-night, Camilla," he said suddenly. "Where will you be?"
As she wouldn't reply, he took her hand and skated backward facing her. "You've got to see me, Camilla——"
"I can't—I won't."
"I'm going away to-morrow."
"We've gotten along for four days without meeting," she said airily. "I think I'll survive."