“At last,” he echoed, with a sigh of relief; pressing her hand which she held out to him and raising it to his lips.
He did not let it go, but passed it through his arm, and together they turned to walk up and down the veranda.
“You didn’t expect me at noon, did you?” he asked, looking down at her.
“No; you said you’d be likely not to come; but I hoped for you all the same. I thought you’d manage it some way.”
“No,” he answered her, laughing, “my efforts failed. I used even strategy. Held out the temptation of your delightful Creole dishes and all that. Nothing was of any avail. They were all business and I had to be all business too, the whole day long. It was horribly stupid.”
She pressed his arm significantly.
“And do you think they will put all that money into the mill, David? Into the business?”
“No doubt of it, dear. But they’re shrewd fellows: didn’t commit themselves in any way. Yet I could see they were impressed. We rode for hours through the woods this morning and they didn’t leave a stick of timber unscrutinized. We were out on the lake, too, and they were like ferrets into every cranny of the mill.”
“But won’t that give you more to do?”
“No, it will give me less: division of labor, don’t you see? It will give me more time to be with you.”