“I’ve been here only a short time, remember. Come back in six months, say, and I may have kicks in plenty.”
“You may find it a bit dreary in winter—who the deuce is that girl yonder, Geoffrey?” he broke off.
They were opposite Carrington’s, and down the walk toward the gate was coming the maid of the blue-black hair, and slender ankles. She wore a blue linen gown, a black hat, and her face was framed by a white silk parasol. 94
“That is Miss Carrington,” said Croyden.
“Hum!—Your house near here?”
“Yes—pretty near.”
Macloud looked at him with a grin.
“She has nothing to do with your liking the town, I suppose?” he said, knowingly.
“Well, she’s not exactly a deterrent—and there are half a dozen more of the same sort. Oh, on that score, Hampton’s not half bad, my friend!” he laughed.
“You mean there are half a dozen of that sort,” with a slight jerk of his head toward Miss Carrington, “who are unmarried?”