CHAPTER XXII
That evening after supper Saunders and Mostyn were on the veranda smoking together. The exchange of remarks was formal, even forced and awkward. Presently Saunders said: "I saw Leach looking for you at the arbor. Did you run across him?"
"Yes," Mostyn puffed, and Saunders heard him heave a sigh. "I had quite a talk with him. I can't fully account for it, but I like the man very much. It may be his optimism or wonderful faith. I know that he has a very soothing effect on me. The truth is, I have promised to go to California with him."
"Oh!" Saunders leaned against the balustrade, steadily scrutinizing the face of his guest. "He told me something about his proposition, but I thought that perhaps you would not be likely to go—not now, anyway."
"Oh yes, I shall go at once. I must go somewhere, and with him I'd have the benefit of a companion."
"But, of course," Saunders flung out, tentatively, "you will not remain away long?"
"I can't say for sure that I shall ever come back," Mostyn said, sadly. "Of course, I can't say positively as to that, but there is nothing—absolutely nothing to hold me here now."
The eyes of the two met in a steady stare.