4
Betty was in his study, standing by the window. She turned quickly when he came in. He closed the door, and affecting a casual manner passed her with a smile and went into the bedroom for the light bag with a shoulder strap, the blanket roll and the ingenious light folding cot that he always carried on these expeditions if there was likelihood of his being caught overnight at native inns. He put on his walking boots and leggings, picked up his thin raincoat and the heavy stick that was his only weapon, and returned to the study.
He felt Betty's eyes on him, and tried to speak in an offhand manner.
“I'm off to So T'ung, Betty. Be back within two or three days.”
She came over, slowly, hesitating, and lingered the blanket roll.
“Will there he danger at So T'ung, Dad?” she asked gently.
“Very little, I think.”
He saw that neither his words nor his manner answered the questions in her hind. Patting her shoulder, he added:
“Kiss me good-by, child. You've been listening to the chatter of the compound. The worst place for gossip in the world.”
But she laid a light finger on the court-plaster that covered a cut on his cheek-bone.