“It’s not what it is now,” she said wistfully, with a little gesture toward the wooded shelter which had been the first note of home to her; “it’s all it has been.”
“But we’ll find another spot just as this was—away from the world.” She turned away, but he caught her arm. “Inga, dear—why, you are crying!”
“No, no—I am not,” she said, her lips quivering and her deep gray-blue eyes swimming with the film of tears she could not control. Then, all at once, she broke from him and ran away, disappearing in the woods with an imploring wave of her hand. In five minutes she was back, as though nothing had happened, smiling bravely.
“Mr. Dan, I’m ashamed of myself!”
Whenever she wished to tease him out of a contrary mood by arousing his ire, she addressed him as she had done in the old days of the Arcade. This time, he understood that she was struggling with her own moods, and smiled indulgently.
“If you behave that way, we’ll bundle right back to New York!”
“Oh, no; you won’t do that—not yet!” she cried, frightened by the suggestion. She approached, looked at him curiously and said, “Where shall we go?”
“You’ve forgotten what I promised you,” he said smiling.
“The sea!” she cried rapturously.
He nodded.