He turned away, and Ruth pondered what she had heard. It was plain that her father shrank from offending Clay; and that seemed to confirm the vague but unpleasant suspicions she had entertained about their business relations. Somehow she felt that not yet had she got at the bottom of her father’s dealings with that man.
CHAPTER XVI—A GHOST OF THE PAST
It was the evening before Aynsley’s departure, and he and Clay and the Osbornes were sitting on the veranda. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and the inlet stretched back, smooth as oil and shining in the evening light. The tops of the tall cedars were motionless; not a ripple broke upon the beach; the only sound was the soft splash of water somewhere among the trees.
The heat had been trying all day, and Aynsley glanced languidly at the faint white line of snow that rose above the silver mist in the blue distance.
“It would be cool up there, and that snow makes one long for the bracing North,” he said. “This is one of the occasions when I don’t appreciate being a mill owner. To-morrow I’ll be busy with dusty books, in a stifling office that rattles with the thumping of engines.”
“It’s good for a man to work,” Miss Dexter remarked.
“No doubt, but it has its disadvantages now and then, as you would agree if a crowd of savage strikers had chased you about your mill. Then, if it weren’t for my business ties, I’d send the captain word to get steam up on the yacht, and take you all to the land of mist and glaciers, where you can get fresh air to breathe.”
“Wouldn’t you miss the comforts, though I dare say you call them necessities, that surround you here? One understands that people live plainly in Alaska.”
Miss Dexter indicated the beautifully made table which stood within reach, set out with glasses and a big silver tankard holding iced liquor. Round this, choice fruit from California was laid on artistic plates.
“We could take some of them along; and we’re not so luxurious as you think,” Aynsley replied. “In fact, I feel just now that I’d rather live on canned goods and splash about in the icy water, like some fishermen we met, than sit in my sweltering office, worrying over accounts and labor troubles.”