"I wish you'd come and have dinner with me, and I'm not going to excuse myself or explain anything. I know I'm using all the worn-out tricks of fellows that are anything but decent; but I know that you know—though how you do I'm blest if I know—but I know that you understand. The thing's too big for me. I've just got to risk it! I'm lonely and I bet you are; we've got to eat—why not eat together?"
The words sounded like explosives, and Joan mentally dodged, but at the end felt that she knew all there was to know and she caught her breath and said very slowly:
"I'm going to be quite as honest as you are. I will have dinner with you because I'm as lonely as can be; my people, like yours, are out of town, and I do understand though I cannot say just how I do. One thing I want you to promise: You will never, under any circumstances, try to find out more about me than I freely give. Now or—ever! When I disappear, I want really to be safe from intrusion."
Raymond promised, and so they set out on the Sun Road.
CHAPTER XVII
"It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own."
The trouble with the Sun Road is this: one is apt to be blinded by the glare.
In their solitude, the solitude of a big city, Raymond and Joan trod the shining way with high courage.