This same meditative young man might have been discovered walking past the porch of the hotel, his hands in his pockets, his eyes presumably on the stars—certainly he gave no signs of watching Claire and the man in riding-breeches as they leaned over the rail, looked at mountain-tops filmy in starlight, while in the cologne-atomized mode, Breeches quoted:
Ah, 'tis far heaven my awed heart seeks
When I behold those mighty peaks.
Milt could hear him commenting, "Doesn't that just get the feeling of the great open, Miss Boltwood?"
Milt did not catch her answer. Himself, he grunted, "I never could get much het up about this poetry that's full of Ah's and 'tises."
Claire must have seen Milt just after he had sauntered past. She cried, "Oh, Mr. Daggett! Just a moment!" She left Breeches, ran down to Milt. He was frightened. Was he going to get what he deserved for eavesdropping?
She was almost whispering. "Save me from our friend up on the porch," she implored.
He couldn't believe it. But he took a chance. "Won't you have a little walk?" he roared.
"So nice of you—just a little way, perhaps?" she sang out.
They were silent till he got up the nerve to admire, "Glad you found some people you knew in the hotel."
"But I didn't."