She had touched the matter rather closely; and he, not knowing that she knew, was puzzled at its significance. While she, seeing that she had ventured almost too far, tactfully changed the conversation.
They regained the highway, a little farther on, and tramped rapidly homeward. At the entrance to Criss-Cross, Stephanie stopped and held out her hand.
"It is too early in the morning to ask you in," she said. "My hostess won't be visible as yet. She's not an early rambler—like we are, Mr. Porshinger. Thank you for saving me from that horrid bull."
"And a less strenuous time on our next walk," he replied, bowing awkwardly over her hand. "You do walk 'most every morning, don't you, Mrs. Lorraine?"
"Every morning that it is convenient," she answered.
"Will it be convenient to-morrow morning?" he asked.
"Not to-morrow," she replied. "I've something else on," and with a little nod she turned away and went up the drive to the house.
"Send my breakfast up in half an hour," she said to the butler, as she passed through the hall.
Once in her room, she rang for a maid, got out of her dusty walking suit and into the grateful shower bath—having first protected her hair with a rubber cap. Then she dressed, put on a flowing silk kimono, and went in to her breakfast, which the servant was just laying on the table by the window.