“Ill?” laughed Ethan. “Certainly not; never felt better in my life.”
“If you felt any better you’d scream, eh? Well, you’ve been up to something, Ethan, and you can lie yourself black in the face for all I care. You’re going back with me this evening; that’s settled. I came over in your machine and for a wonder it didn’t even spring a leak. I left it at The Larches,” he went on in response to Ethan’s questioning survey of the driveway and stable-yard. “I stopped there and made a call.” He paused, smiling mysteriously.
“Oh,” said Ethan.
“Yes, I—look here, let’s take a walk. What time is it? What? Oh, dinner be blowed! Come on, I want to talk a bit. Hang it, Eth, I’ll have to talk or bust up like one of your tires!”
“All right,” answered Ethan, without enthusiasm. “Smoke?”
Vincent accepted a cigarette and when they had lighted up they passed down the steps and along the road, under the arching elms, Vincent’s hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“It’s largely your fault, old chap,” he said presently. He chuckled to himself a moment before continuing. “You see, I got uneasy about your sudden and mysterious affection for this rural paradise. I’ve never heard you enthuse about it before; in fact I remember several violently disparaging remarks on the subject of Riverdell. So when you wrote that you were stopping here a while to study mythology I got scared. Understand?”
“Perfectly! What are you jawing about?”
“Lord, you’re dense! I’ll explain in words of one——”
“Thanks.”