She did not find an opportunity until the following afternoon to apologize for her failure to explain the project to John. The party, which had stayed together all morning on the beach and in the ocean, decided to go their separate ways after luncheon. Mr. Wilkinson joined a fishing excursion, and Lily and the two older women planned to take naps. Jack found it his duty to be in the office if he wanted the evening off, so John seized the chance to ask Marjorie to go walking. She was only too glad to accept. Taking the car as far as Ventnor, so that they might avoid the crowd and the shops, they started their walk in the prettier part of the town. Marjorie plunged immediately into the subject that was uppermost in both minds. “John,” she began, “I didn’t mean to go back on my promise, and I wanted to tell you all about it before anybody else did. But you see papa and Mrs. Remington planned everything; I had practically no say in the matter.” John regarded her intently, wishing that he might believe that she was as keenly disappointed as he was because they were not to be able to spend the vacation together. But no; she certainly did not appear heart-broken. “You’re not sorry, though,” he said, somewhat bitterly. “The whole thing suits you exactly.” “It would be a lie to say it didn’t,” laughed Marjorie, good-naturedly. “You know how I adore that sort of thing.” “Marjorie,” he pursued, “do you think that--that--” he hesitated, as if he did not know how to put his thought--“that sports, and Girl Scouts, and things like that, will always come first with you?” Marjorie seemed hurt at his words; he was accusing her of being cold and unfeeling. “I don’t know what you mean!” she returned, sharply. “Do you imply that I care more for things like that than for people? That I like horseback-riding and hiking better than mother and father and Lily--” “No, no! I didn’t mean that. Of course I know your family and Lily come first. But men, for instance? It seems to me you’d always rather go off with a pack of girls on some escapade than see any of your men friends.” “Maybe I would,” laughed the girl, heartlessly. “But,” she added, “perhaps I’ll wake up some time!” “When?” he asked, seriously. “Maybe when I fall in love!” she returned, teasingly. John knew that now she had adopted this frivolous manner, it would be useless to pursue the subject further. So he put the thing out of his mind temporarily, forcing himself to talk of other things.