“I had no idea of meeting any one when I came out. I usually take a
little walk after supper when I’m here, and I wanted to get all the car
smoke out of my lungs. I was glad to get out of Chicago; it was fiercely
The path was not wide enough for two and she walked before him. After
they had exhausted the heat as a topic, silence fell upon them. He still
swung his hat in his hand. Once or twice he smote his stick smartly upon
the ground. He timed his pace to hers, keeping close, his eyes upon her
straight slender figure. When they reached the lane they walked together
until they came to the highway, which they followed to the house. An oil
lamp marked the walk that led through Mrs. Owen’s flower garden.
“Aren’t you coming in, Mr. Bassett?” asked Sylvia, as they paused.
Her hand clicked the latch and the little white-washed gate swung open.
In the lamplight their eyes met again.
“I’m sorry, but I must go home. This is the first time I’ve been here
this summer, and my stay is short. I must be off again to-morrow.”