“Riding down to lunch with your paragon of a station-agent.”
Miss Van Arsdale shook her head dubiously. “I’m afraid he’ll miss his daily stimulant after you’ve gone. It has been daily, hasn’t it?”
“I suppose it has, just about,” admitted the girl. “The stimulus hasn’t been all on one side, I assure you. What a mind to be buried here in the desert! And what an annoying spirit of contentment! It’s that that puzzles me. Sometimes it enrages me.”
“Are you going to spoil what you cannot replace?” The retort was swift, almost fierce.
“Surely, you won’t blame me if he looks beyond this horizon,” protested Io. “Life is sure to reach out in one form or another and seize on him. I told him so.”
“Yes,” breathed the other. “You would.”
“What were you intending to do with him?”
There was a hint of challenge in the slight emphasis given to the query.
“I? Nothing. He is under no obligation to me.”
“There you and he differ. He regards you as an infallible mentor.” A twinkle of malice crept into the slumbrous eyes. “Why do you let him wear made-up bow ties?” demanded Io.