"What do you care? Women will say anything when jealous, which I suspect is the cause of their behavior. Hasn't your mirror told you that?" and Goddard smiled, as he looked with admiration at her winsome face.
"It is not always the women who throw the first stone, Major," again Nancy hesitated. "There is a man in Washington—he chose to consider himself in love with me, and because I did not encourage his suit he—he—insinuates——"
"The beast! Why don't you tell him he is a liar and a coward?"
"Because I am only a woman."
"I wish you would give me the right to protect you," whispered Goddard, carried away by the wistful appeal in her large, eloquent eyes.
"Major Goddard," Nancy drew back, frightened by the intensity of his manner. "This is very wrong. You—you—forget we have not known each other long."
"I am getting on as fast as I can," retorted Goddard sturdily; his heart thumping as he saw her confusion. "Miss Newton—Nancy—I mean every word I have said. Tell me that scoundrel's name!"
Unconsciously Goddard raised his voice, and Miss Metoaca awoke from her slumbers, which had long exceeded the "forty winks." That limit existed only in her imagination.
"Well, young people, are you hungry?" to attract Goddard's attention she prodded him with her umbrella. "Suppose we open our lunch basket."
Reluctantly Goddard rose and assisted Miss Metoaca in handing the sandwiches, cakes, and cold coffee to Nancy. They did full justice to the good things provided by Miss Metoaca's excellent cook, and lingered over the improvised lunch table. Finally Nancy commenced putting the remains of the lunch into the hamper just as the train reached the railroad bridge which spanned the Potomac at the juncture of the Shenandoah River.