As it was impossible to see the house, let alone the veranda, Cleves made no reply. He beached the canoe; Tressa stepped out; he followed, carrying the golf bags.
A mousy light lingered in the shrubbery; bats were flying against a salmon-tinted sky as they took the path homeward.
With an impulse quite involuntary, Cleves encircled his young wife’s shoulders with his left arm.
“Girl-comrade,” he said lightly, “I’d kill any man who even looked as though he’d harm you.”
He smiled, but she had not missed the ugly undertone in his words.
They walked slowly, his arm around her shoulders. Suddenly he felt her start. They halted.
“What was it?” he whispered.
“I thought there was something white in the woods.”
“Where, dear?” he asked coolly.
“Over there beyond the lawn.”