"Do you care to?"
"Of course. The idea of my not caring to talk to you," she said, laughing at the absurdity. "Shall we go into the sitting room, or walk in the starlight? There are no snakes out, yet," she assured him, "though if this weather holds, the moccasins will come out."
"We'll walk down to the shore," he said.
"One moment, then." She turned and sped to the house, reappearing, after a few minutes, wearing her ragged shooting coat.
"Is your father comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
"Do you think he might want you?"
"No. Jim sleeps next to him, and he is preparing for bed, now." She smiled. "What a darling my brother is, isn't he, Mr. Marche?"
"He's a fine boy."
They moved on together, down the rutted lane, between dismantled fences and ragged, leafless hedges. She was lithe and light and sure footed, but