“Only the usual perplexities of a genius who’s worn out from long application! He can breathe easy now. The motor’s going to be a wonder. I was with your father all day and he’s attained every excellence he claimed. You have every reason to be proud of him.”
“It’s all your kindness,” she murmured.
“Oh, not a bit of it! There’s no sentiment about mechanics. You’ve either got it or you haven’t. And your father is sound on the fundamentals where most inventors are weak.”
They sat down on a rustic bench on the bluff above the river and he threw his overcoat across her knees. Above them towered a sycamore; below they heard the murmur and ripple of running water. He put his arm about her, drew her close and kissed her.
“I wish it were all true, as we can imagine it to be in this quiet place, that we’re absolutely alone in the world—just ourselves.”
“But it isn’t true; we’ve just run away from the world for a little while,” she said, “but I’m glad for this.”
She laid her hand on his and gently stroked it.
“I hope you understood why I didn’t go yesterday as I’d intended. I couldn’t leave without explaining. I couldn’t have you think that I took you to Miss Reynolds’s just to make you uncomfortable. It was my mistake and a stupid blunder.”
“No; the mistake was mine,” she insisted. “I realized afterwards that my first feeling was right, that it was foolish to go.”
“I was honest about it. Mrs. Trenton had led me to think that she wouldn’t resent meeting any woman who promised to give me the love and companionship it wasn’t in her power to give me. I took her at her word. You understand that, don’t you?”