Terry laughed and rose.
"He's in a bad hole, Miss Mathers, but I'm not sure but that I envy him after all."
Polly dimpled through her tears; this was the language she understood.
"Good by," she said. "You'll remember your promise?"
"Never a syllable will I breathe," said Terry, and he put a hand on my shoulder and marched me off.
"She's a fascinating young person," he observed, as we turned into the road.
"You are not the first to discover that," said I.
"I fancy I'm not!" he retorted with a sidewise glance at me.
Terry gazed at the landscape a few moments with a pensive light in his eyes, then he threw back his head and laughed.