"Yes, I know," said Barbara. "You didn't want me to get across!"
Lister studied her. He doubted if it was altogether exertion that had brought the blood to her skin and given her eyes the keen sparkle. Clinging to the rock, with the shadowy gulf below, she looked strangely alert and virile. Her figure cut against the sky; he noted its slenderness and finely-drawn lines. She was not angry, although he had admitted he pushed down the stone, but he felt as if something divided them and doubted if he could remove the obstacle.
"I wanted to talk and had found I could not get near you unless the others were about," he said. "It looked as if I had unconsciously given you some grounds for standing me off. Well, I suppose I did put your relations on your track."
"It wasn't that," said Barbara. "I imagine Harry Vernon helped you there. You were forced to tell your story."
"I was forced. All the same, I think Harry's plan was good."
"He went away a few days before I arrived!" Barbara remarked.
Lister thought he saw where she led and knitted his brows. He was on awkward ground and might say too much, but to say nothing might be worse.
"Harry's a good sort and I expect he pulled out because he imagined you'd sooner he did so," he said. "For all that, I reckon he ought to have stayed."
Although her color was vivid, Barbara gave him a searching glance. "In order to imply I had no grounds for embarrassment if I met him? Harry was at the camp in the woods."
"He knew you had no grounds for embarrassment," Lister declared. "I knew, and Harry's an older friend."