“Where’s the water?”
With a lover’s delicacy, William ran the point of the knife along the canvas.
“Don’t you see it, Miss June?” There was a thrill in the low voice.
“Why, yes,” said June. “It’s water, right enough.” No use trying now not to be impressed. “Now I call that rather clever!”
“I knew it was there. And if you know a thing’s there, sooner or later you are bound to find it. Do you know what my opinion is?” Of a sudden, the exalted voice sank mysteriously.
June had no idea what William’s opinion was, but she was quite willing to hear it, whatever it might be, for he had just had a considerable rise in her estimation.
“It wouldn’t surprise me at all if this turns out to be a——” He broke off with a perplexing smile.
“Turns out to be a what?”
“Perhaps I’d better not say.” The words, in their caution and their gravity intrigued a shrewd daughter of the midlands. June, in spite of herself, was beginning to respect this odd young man.
“You think it might be something very good?”