We looked at each other for a second. Then he began to smile, and we both went off into a peal of laughter.
"At least let me know if Miss Fiske rampages," he called after me as I fled.
But Aunt Martha was not awake—and I have been to the shore three afternoons since then. I was there today, and I'm going tomorrow for a boat sail with Mr. Shelmardine and the Allardyces. But I am afraid the former will do something rash soon. This afternoon he said: "I don't think I can stand this much longer."
"Stand what?" I asked.
"You know very well," he answered recklessly. "Meeting you in this clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of yours such misery. If your aunt were not so—unreasonable, I should never have stooped to it."
"It is all my fault," I said contritely.
"Well, I hardly meant that," he said grimly. "But hadn't I better go frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"
"You would never see me again if you did that," I said hastily—and then wished I hadn't.
"That is the worst threat you could make," he said.
July Twenty-fifth.