“Oh, no, you don't! Wait just a minute—won't you?”
Cynthia halted, with apparent unwillingness, and put out her toe between the pickets. Then she saw that there was a little patch on that toe, and drew it in again.
“What do you want to say?” she repeated. “I don't believe you have anything to say at all.” And suddenly she flashed a look at him that made his heart thump.
“I do—I swear I do!” he protested. “I'm coming down to the Pelican to-morrow morning to get you to go for a walk.”
Cynthia could not but think that the remoteness of the time he set was scarce in keeping with his ardent tone.
“I have something else to do to-morrow morning,” she answered.
“Then I'll come to-morrow afternoon,” said Bob, instantly.
“Who lives here?” she asked irrelevantly.
“Mr. Duncan. I'm visiting the Duncans.”
At this moment a carryall joined the carriage at the gate. Cynthia glanced at the porch again. The group there had gown larger, and they were still staring. She began to feel uncomfortable again, and moved on slowly.