"What in the world will they think!" she breathed. "I've been gone
since daybreak, without saying a word that I was going. And it must be
noon by now. Come--no, don't hurry! It's too late to hurry now!"
Her chin came up; the line of her lips lost its soft fullness. It was
his hot face which made her aware of how surely her imperiously quick
orders had stung him. Then she was back, knee to knee, at his side.
"That wasn't fair," she said. "That was most unfair, to me. You
didn't think, did you, that I----"
His interruption surprised her.
"If I shouldn't inquire," he asked, "will you please tell me so, and
forget I asked the question? May I know when you--you and Mr.
Wickersham are to be----"
Barbara's face went slowly crimson, flushed to the nape of her neck.
"It's not a certainty yet, the date," she answered kindly. "Just late
in the spring, I think."
He nodded. Again she knew how wholly unreadable his eyes could be.
"Late in the spring," he repeated, so softly that he might have been
talking to himself. "Late in the spring I'll have two time limits run
out on me."
Wickersham himself was coming across the lawn to meet them when they
drew rein at the head of the driveway. With a deliberation so
proprietary that it set Barbara suddenly to gnawing her lip, he unbent
his long legs and straightened from his place on the top step of the
veranda; and even though the wicker chairs behind him were filled he
stood forth quite alone, extremely tall and straight, perfectly poised
and entirely immaculate.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202