“I shall write, and I shall come back.”
The small lady shook her head with a demure smile. They returned slowly through the fields. Yes, this girl was utterly different from the women of his own race, and her difference appealed to him. She seemed, even in her simplicity, more womanly, more as women were meant to be, the protected and the adored. His imagination built up a pretty picture of a dreamy existence in a beautiful country with such a trusting, simple, lovable creature as companion.
“Why do you go away so soon?” she demanded as they neared the house.
“I must take the boat for Europe,” he replied.
“There will be another boat in a month.”
“Would you like me to stay?”
“Of course! Don’t you know that?” . . . Calloway and Hollinger were already on horse-back in the courtyard, about to start without him.
“Are you coming with us?” the fight-trust man asked with an ironical smile.
The Englishman and his wife gave the young stranger a cordial invitation to remain and make a long visit. Brainard was about to accept when he remembered his bag left unguarded in the hotel room.
“I shall have to return to the hotel for to-night,” he said reluctantly.