“I have done something rather foolish,” I told her, staying where I stood.
“Yes?”
“And I have found out all over again that haste makes waste. I wanted to get a peep at that stand of timber and I went racing around in the dark—and so I have wrenched my ankle.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!”
“It’s my own fault! It’s what the city does to a man! Keeps him on the gallop! Makes him too impatient to wait for morning.”
“Can you get to the carriage?”
“But I don’t like to trouble you, Miss Kingsley! If you will send a team—”
“No, you shall ride with me! The idea of my leaving you in the woods alone! I’ll come and help you.”
“No, I’ll manage!”
So I limped to the carriage and climbed in. She watched me anxiously and asked after my hurt with solicitude. I was doing a pretty mean thing, I knew, but the opportunity to be alone with Celene Kingsley that first hour of my arrival in town was a favor to be grabbed for and hugged jealously. She walked the horse, and I sat beside her and was so happy in that first intimacy that I was not a bit ashamed of my deceit.