He tried the weather, the flood, the accident, golf, books and three good, substantial, warranted jokes, but the conversation lagged in spite of him. Miss Van Kamp would not for the world have it understood that this unconventional meeting, made allowable by her wrenched ankle, could possibly fulfill the functions of a formal introduction.
“What a ripping, queer old building that is!” he exclaimed, making one more brave effort as they came in sight of the hotel.
“It is, rather,” she assented. “The rooms in it are as quaint and delightful as the exterior, too.”
She looked as harmless and innocent as a basket of peaches as she said it, and never the suspicion of a smile deepened the dimple in the cheek toward him. The smile was glowing cheerfully away inside, though. He could feel it, if he could not see it, and he laughed aloud.
“Your crowd rather got the better of us there,” he admitted with the keen appreciation of one still quite close to college days.
“Of course, the mater is furious, but I rather look on it as a lark.”
She thawed like an April icicle.
“It’s perfectly jolly,” she laughed with him. “Awfully selfish of us, too, I know, but such loads of fun.”
They were close to the Tutt House now, and her limp, that had entirely disappeared as they emerged from the woods, now became quite perceptible. There might be people looking out of the windows, though it is hard to see why that should affect a limp.
Ralph was delighted to find that a thaw had set in, and he made one more attempt to establish at least a proxy acquaintance.