Grace stepped into view, carrying a quaint Japanese tray laden with delectable cheer. In her crisp dotted swiss gown of white, her sensitive face a trifle thinner than of yore, she looked hardly older than in her freshman days at high school. "Here you are, weary wanderer," she said gayly. "Eat, drink and be merry."
"Here You Are, Weary Wanderer," She Said Gayly.
Hippy groaned inwardly as he sprang from the swing to relieve her of the tray. "Grace," he began with grave affection, "I have something not in the least pleasant to tell you. I don't——"
"About Tom?" Grace's question rang out sharply on the drowsy air.
"It's not bad news of him," Hippy hastily assured, "but it's about him."
"Then tell me quickly." Grace braced herself for the shock, her gray eyes riveted on Hippy.