"
"I wasn't jealous," she protested, blushing. "But she called twice on
the telephone and then came up. And she's pretty."
"I suppose you mean Miss Kirkstone?"
"Yes. She was frightfully anxious to see you, Derry."
"And what did you think of her, dear?"
She cast a swift look up into his face.
"Why, I like her. She's sweet and pretty, and I fell in love with her
hair. But something was troubling her this morning. I'm quite sure of
it, though she tried to keep it back."
"She was nervous, you mean, and pale, with sometimes a frightened look
in her eyes. Was that it?"
"You seem to know, Derry. I think it was all that."
He nodded. He saw his horizon aglow with the smile of fortune.
Everything was coming propitiously for him, even this unexpected visit
of Miriam Kirkstone. He did not trouble himself to speculate as to the
object of her visit, for he was grappling now with his own opportunity,
his chance to get away, to win out for himself in one last
master-stroke, and his mind was concentrated in that direction. The
time was ripe to tell these things to Mary Josephine. She must be
prepared.
On the flat table of the hill where Brady had built his bungalow were
scattered clumps of golden birch, and in the shelter of one of the
nearer clumps was a bench, to which Keith drew Mary Josephine.
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