"He's been warning you against me, eh?" asked Sam bitterly. "Naturally, you have to attend to what he says. It's all right." He made as if to drive on.
Miss Mackall seemed to be about to throw herself in front of the horses.
"How can you?" she cried reproachfully. "You know I don't care what anybody says. But while I'm living in his house I have to——"
"Sure!" replied Sam sorely. "I won't trouble you——"
"If we could write to each other," she suggested, "and leave the letters in a safe place."
Sam shook his head. "Never was any hand at writing letters," he said deprecatingly. "I run dry when I take a pen. Besides, I have no place to write, nor anything to write with."
"There is another way," she murmured, "but I suppose I shouldn't speak of it."
"What way?" asked Sam.
"There's a trail from the back of our house direct to Grier's Point. It is never used except when they bring supplies to the store in the summer. We keep very early hours. Everything is quiet by nine. I could slip out of the house and walk down the trail to meet you. We could talk a while, and I could be in again before dark."
Sam felt a little dubious, but how can a young man hold back in a matter of this kind? "All right, if you wish it," he agreed.