“There,” he cried, as though he had suddenly made a great discovery. “I knew it was you I saw on the trail. Why,” he added, with guileful simplicity, “you were wearing that very suit you have on now. Say, was there ever such a fool, not recognizing you before?”
Helen was deceived—and so easily.
“I didn’t think you really saw me,” she said, without the least shame. “You were so busy with the—sights.” Bill nodded.
“Yes, we’d just come along down past that mighty big pine. Fyles had told me it was the landmark. I—I was just thinking about things.”
“Thinking about the old pine?” inquired Helen.
“Well, not exactly,” replied Bill. “Though it’s worth it. I mean thinking about——. You see, a fellow like me don’t need to waste many big thinks. Guess I haven’t got ’em to waste,” he added deprecatingly.
Helen shook her head, but her laughing eyes belied the seriousness of her denial.
“That’s not a bit fair to—yourself,” she said. “I just don’t believe you haven’t got any big ‘thinks.’”
Bill’s manner warmed.