He was obeying her literally—more literally than she could have demanded. Not to slow down, come to a standstill beside her, exchange at least a few words of greeting—this was indeed a strict interpretation of her edict. Evidently he meant to play the game rigorously. Still, he had been a compellingly attractive figure as he passed; that instant's glimpse of him was likely to remain with her quite as long as a more protracted interview. Did he guess that?
"I wonder how I looked?" was her first thought as she walked on—a purely feminine one, it must be admitted. When she reached home she glanced at herself in the hall mirror on her way upstairs—a thing she seldom took the trouble to do.
A figure got hastily to its feet and came out into the hall to meet her as she passed the door of the reception-room. "Miss Roberta!" said an eager voice.
"Why, Mr. Westcott! I didn't know you were in town!"
"I didn't intend to be until next month, as you knew. But this wonderful weather was too much for me."
He held her hand and looked down into her face from his tall height. He told her what he thought of her appearance—in detail with his eyes, in modified form with his lips.
"In my old school clothes?" laughed Roberta. "How draggy winter things seem the first warm days. This velvet hat weighs like lead on my head to-day." She took it off. "I'll run up and make myself presentable," said she.
"Please don't. You're exactly right as you are. And—I want you to go for a walk if you're not too tired. The road that leads out by the West Wood marshes—it will be sheer spring out there to-day. I want to share it with you."
So Roberta put on her hat again and went to walk with Forbes Westcott out the road that led by the West Wood marshes. There was not a more romantic road to be found in a long way.
When they were well out into the country he began to press a question which she had heard before, and to which he had had as yet no answer.