I know that Roger and I sat
careless of time. And when he told me that ever since our first
afternoon together he had determined to have me, sooner or later,
I was the proudest woman in New England. I told Roger about the
ghastly wreck, and my agony of apprehension. I think it was the
wreck that made us both feel inclined to forgive Andrew.
We had a light luncheon together there on the dunes above the Sound.
By taking a short cut over the ridge we struck into the Shelby road
without going down into Port Vigor again. Peg pulled us along toward
Greenbriar, and we talked as we went.
Perhaps the best of it was that a cold drizzle of rain began to fall
as we moved along the hill road. The Professor--as I still call him,
by force of habit--curtined in the front of the van with a rubber
sheet. Bock hopped up and curled himself aginst his master's leg.
Roger got out his corncob pipe, and I sat close to him. In the
gathering gloom we plodded along, as happy a trio--or quartet, if
you include fat, cheery old Peg--as any on this planet.
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