“Glenn, I love people, not places,” she returned.
“So I remember. And that’s one thing I don’t like. But let’s not quarrel. What’ll we do?”
“Suppose you tramp with me all around, until I’m good and hungry. Then we’ll come back here—and you can cook dinner for me.”
“Fine! Oh, I know you’re just bursting with curiosity to see how I’ll do it. Well, you may be surprised, miss.”
“Let’s go,” she urged.
“Shall I take my gun or fishing rod?”
“You shall take nothing but me,” retorted Carley. “What chance has a girl with a man, if he can hunt or fish?”
So they went out hand in hand. Half of the belt of sky above was obscured by swiftly moving gray clouds. The other half was blue and was being slowly encroached upon by the dark storm-like pall. How cold the air! Carley had already learned that when the sun was hidden the atmosphere was cold. Glenn led her down a trail to the brook, where he calmly picked her up in his arms, quite easily, it appeared, and leisurely packed her across, kissing her half a dozen times before he deposited her on her feet.
“Glenn, you do this sort of thing so well that it makes me imagine you have practice now and then,” she said.
“No. But you are pretty and sweet, and like the girl you were four years ago. That takes me back to those days.”