Mr. Fenton agreed, walking forward to speak to Memory Frean. Except for an occasional meeting upon the streets of Westhaven, and one or two brief conversations with regard to the Girl Scout camp in Beechwood Forest, they had not seen each other in many years.
To-night in the depth of the woods, with Tory walking between them, they talked as if neither of them recalled any past intimacy.
“I have been a little worried about you, Tory,” Mr. Fenton said finally. “You have not been in town to see me in a number of days. I thought it was agreed that we were to see each other once a week.”
Tory nodded.
“Yes, I have missed you dreadfully, but I have been so busy. I thought if you became very lonely you would come and find me,” she announced, with the familiarity of a delightful intimacy.
By and by when Miss Frean and Mr. Fenton continued talking, the barrier between them increasing, Tory scarcely listened, thinking their conversation not particularly entertaining.
They were merely discussing the weather and the scenery.
In another quarter of an hour the lights of the camp showed nearby. Darkness had not completely descended. Outdoors one could still see one’s way.
The chief lights appeared inside the evergreen cabin, while in front of the door stood a large automobile.
Fearing that Kara had grown unexpectedly worse, Tory darted away from her companions and into the cabin.