But those letters of old Farr had been so blamed plausible!
Well, anyhow, he would have the pleasure of meeting and outfacing
the old rascal. This satisfaction he had expected the night before.
But upon their arrival at the "picturesque though humble" cottage
(after a climb at the memory of which his leg still shuddered), it
was found that Dr. Farr was not at home.
"He has probably gone 'up trail'" Miss Farr had said casually, "and
in that case he won't be back until morning."
"Did you say up?" The professor's voice held incredulity. Whereupon
his hostess had most unkindly smiled: "You're not much of a walker,
are you?" was her untactful comment.
"My leg--" He had actually begun to tell her about his leg! Luckily
her amused shrug had acted as a period. He felt very glad of this
now. To have admitted weakness would have been weak indeed. For the
girl was so splendidly strong! Only a child, of course, but so
finely moulded, so superbly strung--light and lithe. How she had
swung up the trail, a heavy packet in either hand, with scarcely a
quickened breath to tell of the effort! Her face?--he tried to
recall her face but found it provokingly elusive. It was a young
face, but not youthful. The distinction seemed strained and yet it
was a real distinction. The eyes were grey, he thought. The eyebrows
very fine, dark and slanted slightly, as if left that way by some
unanswered question. The nose was straight, delightful in profile.
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