The twigs and pebbles crunched under heavy feet; the branches shook and rustled; a blue sweater became visible in the shadows. She looked away.
“Well, I’ll be—eternally blowed!” His voice came out like an explosion. Much as she expected it, she started. When, after a moment, she dared look up, he stood over her.
“Are you going to run away?” he asked. His voice, with its ripple like laughter, showed that he expected nothing of the kind.
“No,” she answered, superfluously.
He seemed, then, to feel the necessity for explanation. 235
“I hadn’t an idea—”
“Neither had I.” She broke in to anticipate his thought. Each was lying a little; and both knew it. She rushed to commonplaces.
“Uncle Edward and I are at Mrs. Goodyear’s bungalow over Sunday. It’s our last expedition out of town before we go down to the ranch.”
“Well, I must have had a hunch! I’m at the Masters ranch over Sunday. I got a freak idea to take a walk alone. It sure was a hunch!” Soft sentiment tinged his voice. She answered nothing.
“A hunch that you were alone here, nobody to interrupt—say, are you still sore on me?”