“‘Softly and silently vanish away,
And never be heard of again’?”
“You’re mixed. You’d be the one to do that if I were a real Boojum. And you’ll be doing it soon enough, anyway,” he concluded ruefully.
“So I shall, but don’t be too sure that I’ll ‘never be heard of again.’”
He glanced up at the sun, which was edging behind a dark cloud, over the gap.
“Is your raging thirst for personal information sufficiently slaked?” he asked. “We’ve still fifteen or twenty minutes left.”
“Is that all? And I haven’t yet given you the message!” She drew it from the bag and handed it to him.
“Sealed,” he observed.
The girl colored painfully.
“Dad didn’t intend—You mustn’t think—” With a flash of generous wrath she tore the envelope open and held out the inclosure. “But I shouldn’t have thought you so concerned with formalities,” she commented curiously.
“It isn’t that. But in some respects, possibly important, it would be better if—” He stopped, looking at her doubtfully.