She waved a farewell to Kate and moved away, and Bill, like some faithful watchdog, followed at her heels. Fyles looked after them both with serious, earnest eyes. Kate watched them smiling.
Presently Fyles turned back to her.
“Well?” he demanded.
Kate’s eyes were slowly raised to his.
“Well?” she echoed. “So——”
She broke off. Her generous nature checked her in time. She had been about to twit him with his defeat. She sympathized with his feelings at the thought of his broken hopes.
“Better say it,” said Fyles, with a smile, in which chagrin and tenderness struggled for place. “You were going to say I have been defeated, as you told me I should be defeated.”
“I s’pose I was.” Kate glanced quickly up into his face, but the feeling she beheld there made her turn her eyes away so that they followed Bill and Helen moving down the trail. “Women are usually ungenerous to—an adversary.” Then her whole manner changed to one of kindly frankness. “Do you know my feelings are sort of mixed about your—defeat——”
“Not defeat,” put in Fyles. “Check.”
Kate smiled.