She glanced up quickly. “Did you see him?”
“No. Mindle, the mail transfer man, did.”
“Oh! Well, that was Aleck Babson. ‘Babbling Babson,’ he’s called at the clubs. He’s the most inveterate gossip in New York.”
“It’s a long way from New York,” pointed out Banneker.
“Yes; but he has a long tongue. Besides, he’ll see the Westerleys and my other friends in Paradiso, and babble to them.”
“Suppose he does?”
“I won’t have people chasing here after me or pestering me with letters,” she said passionately. “Yet I don’t want to go away. I want to get more rested, Ban, and forget a lot of things.”
He nodded. Comfort and comprehension were in his silence.
“You can be as companionable as a dog,” said Io softly. “Where did you get your tact, I wonder? Well, I shan’t go till I must.... Lemonade, Ban! I brought over the lemons myself.”
They lunched a little soberly and thoughtfully.