“In that case, nearer the twenty-four hours than the month.”
Darcy seated herself on a boulder and took her chin into her cupped hands. “Let me think,” she murmured.
Remsen watched her as she considered and would have given much to be able to read her mind. Presently she looked up.
“Do you mind leaving me here?” she inquired.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why?”
“I always mind leaving you. It gives me a lost feeling.”
She nodded. “Yes; I know what you mean. I feel it, too.”
“Do you?” he cried eagerly.
“You’ve been so wonderfully good to me all through this queer mess,” she supplemented, a little hurriedly.