“How long—” began the man, but his voice broke. He shook in the bitter heat as if from some inner and deadly chill.
“Nobody can tell. She hoards her sight.”
“To see me?” he cried eagerly. “Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Is that wise?” he questioned. “The shock—”
“I think that she suspects; she senses your coming. Her face has the rapt expression that I have seen only when she plays. Has had since you started. Yet there is no possible way in which she could have learned.”
“That is very wonderful,” said the stranger, in a hushed voice. Then, hesitantly, “What shall I do, Io?”
“Nothing,” came the girl’s clear answer. “Go to her, that is all.”
Another horse was led forward and the pair rode away through the glimmering heat.
It was a silent ride for Willis Enderby and Io. The girl was still a little daunted at her own temerity in playing at fate with destinies as big as these. As for Enderby, there was no room within his consciousness for any other thought than that he was going to see Camilla Van Arsdale again.