“Can’t you persuade these people not to go, Miss Stirling?” he asked.
The girl smiled.
“No,” she said, “I think you ought to recognize that.”
“Then can’t you make some excuse, for stopping behind with Mrs. Kinnaird?”
“Why?”
Weston made a little gesture.
“It will probably be a tough climb. I’d rather you didn’t go.”
Dusk was creeping up the hillside, but there was still a little light among the misty pines, and the girl flashed a quick glance at him. He seemed diffident, but it was evident that he did not wish her to go, and once more she felt that he aroused her curiosity.
“That,” she observed, “is not exactly an answer. Why should I stay below?”
Weston was relieved at this, for it seemed preferable to him that she should be the one to raise the personal side of the question.