"No," he admitted; recognizing at once that he had given an unwise opening.
"Then why don't you let me show you the way?" Edith asked, as if the thought had only just occurred to her.
A chorus of approval went up from Huntington, Mrs. Thatcher and Billy.
"Suppose we all go," Cosden said, seeking safety in numbers.
"We have taken the drive several times," Mrs. Thatcher abetted Edith in her conspiracy, "and I am sure Mr. Huntington is too gallant to leave us. You can drive over and back comfortably by dinner-time."
"Won't you stop on the way home and get me some coral sand?" Merry asked. "Edith will show you the beach."
A drive with Miss Stevens was the last thing Cosden had intended, but as there seemed no possible escape he rose to the occasion and at once ordered the victoria. Nor was the enthusiasm of Billy's send-off balm-of-Gilead to his soul as the carriage moved away from the hotel steps. Edith, in a suit of white Bermuda doe-skin, with a small purple hat perched rakishly on her head, and carrying a purple parasol with handle of abalone pearl, was looking her best, and to the amused onlookers her snapping eyes and beaming countenance seemed to promise compensation.
"I wish we might have a word together about Hamlen," Huntington remarked to Marian as they turned back to the piazza.
"That is the very subject which is uppermost in my mind," she replied eagerly. "You saw him this morning?"
"Yes; and he has absorbed my thoughts ever since. Suppose we sit down and talk him over."