"I have no reason to dislike him."
"Oh! Is it the case of Sabidius? 'Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare!'"
He laughed uneasily: "Oh, no, I think not…. You and he are such excellent friends that I certainly ought to like him anyway."
But she remained silent, musing; and on the edge of her upcurled lip he saw the faint smile lingering, then fading, leaving the oval face almost expressionless.
So they drove past the one-story post office where a group of young people stood awaiting the arrival of the stage with its battered mail bags; past the stump-pond where Valerie had caught her first and only fish, past a few weather-beaten farm houses, a white-washed church, a boarding house or two, a village store, a watering-trough, and then drove up to the wooden veranda where Rita rose from a rocker and came forward with hand outstretched.
"Hello, Rita!" he said, giving her hand a friendly shake. "Why didn't you drive down with Valerie?"
"I? That child would have burst into tears at such a suggestion."
"Probably," said Valerie, calmly: "I wanted him for myself. Now that
I've had him I'll share him."
She sprang lightly to the veranda ignoring Neville's offered hand with a smile. A hired man took away the horse; a boy picked up his suit case and led the way.
"I'll be back in a moment," he said to Valerie and Rita.