Adventure stories; Automobile travel -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
When she awoke, with a nervous start, Johnny was down at the edge of
the lake scouring pans with sand and whistling blithely. Off there to
the west, with Aunt Agatha fussing at his heels, Philip was
good-naturedly gathering the lilies at the water's edge. And some one
was approaching camp from the northern road.
Diane glanced carelessly to the north and sprang to her feet with wild
scarlet in her cheeks.
Ronador was coming through the forest.
His color was a little high, his eyes, beneath the peak of his motoring
cap profoundly apologetic, but he was easier in manner than Diane.
"I'm offending, I know," he said steadily, "and I crave forgiveness,
but muster an indifferent gift of patience as best I may, I can not
wait. It is weeks, you recall--"
Diane flushed brightly.
"Yes," she said. "I know. I have been in the Everglades."
"Your aunt told me." Ronador searched her face suddenly with peculiar
intentness. He might have added, with perfect truth, that to Aunt
Agatha, who had indiscreetly afforded him a glimpse of her niece's
letter, might be attributed the halting of the long, black car on the
road to the north. "You have no single word of welcome, then!" he
reproached abruptly and impatiently brushed his hair back from his
forehead with a hand that shook a little.
From the north came the clatter of a motorcycle.
Diane held out her hand.
"Let us make a mutual compact!" she exclaimed frankly. "I have
overstrained your patience--you have startled me. Let us both forgive.
In a sense we have neither of us kept strictly to the letter of our
agreement."
Ronador bent with deference over the girl's outstretched hand and
brushed it lightly with his lips, unconscious that her face had grown
very white and troubled. Nor in his impetuous relief was he aware that
other eyes had witnessed the eloquent tableau and that Aunt Agatha had
arrived in camp with an escort who quietly deposited an armful of
dripping lilies upon the camp table and oddly enough made no effort to
retire.
When at length, conscious of the electric constraint of the atmosphere,
Ronador wheeled uncomfortably and met Philip's level glance, he stared
and reddened, hot insolent anger in the flash of his eyes and the curl
of his lips.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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