“Where the devil can Lola be?” he growled angrily. “It is almost eight o’clock.”
“Well, you may do as you please, my dear boy,” said Mrs. Harlan firmly, “but I’m not going to wait. How about you, Bob?”
“Well,” replied Bob very earnestly, “I would do an awful lot for Lola; she’s behaving splendidly, and she’s a big credit to the party to-day, but she couldn’t expect a fellow to take a chance of missing his dinner.”
“You two go on in. I’ll find her.” Dick turned and left them, going down the steps to the shore road and glancing up and down, in the hope of seeing her. He could make out a couple down by the water, their figures looming dimly through the darkness; lovers probably, he thought; they seemed to be walking very slowly and very near together, but he could see nothing of the solitary form for which he was looking. She was not in her room; he had made sure of that, and as far as he could see in the dim light, this one couple had the shore to themselves. He was conscious of a feeling of envy; if only Lola and he could sometimes do as these two were doing; forget everything but one another; be together like that, alone. He would be content if he was sure of her love; he, who had asked much of women, would be satisfied with so little, but Lola seemed to have no sentiment. Things would be all right, of course, after they were married, but now it was hard. They were coming toward him slowly, those two, and as he stood there waiting he watched them idly.
A man and a girl, of course; no two men or two women ever walked like that. He laughed to himself as he realized the sentimentality of his mood. The man was very tall; even in the darkness one could tell that he was young and strong. The girl was small, delicate; something in her bearing reminded him—— “By God! It is Lola!” He started forward and met them at the foot of the steps just as they came out of the shadow into the light thrown out by the bright illumination of the veranda.
“Lola!” He stood facing her angrily, glancing from her to the young fellow at her side, a sun-burned, wind-tanned young giant in loose flannels. “Where have you been?”
“Why, I took a little walk, Dick,” she answered calmly. “I met Mr. Blake, and he was good enough to offer to stroll back with me. Mr. Blake is the life-guard who fished me out of the water this afternoon. This is Mr. Fenway, Mr. Blake.”
“Oh!” Dick returned the young man’s bow rather curtly. “I am glad of the chance of thanking you again, Blake. I would have looked you up, of course, in the morning. I was in my bathing suit at the time, and when I got dressed you had gone off duty. Here.” He had taken out his pocketbook as he spoke, and now drew out a bill and held it out.
“I thank you very much, Mr. Fenway,” said the young man with what seemed to Dick to be surprisingly good manners for a fellow of his position, “but I can’t take it. Miss Barnhelm had already rewarded me most liberally.” He raised his cap politely, and with a brief good night stepped out of the circle of light and was swallowed up in the darkness.
“What the devil are you laughing at, Lola?” demanded Dick angrily. “Do you see anything especially funny?”