"You were over here to see him," he said flatly.
Her clear laugh came again. "Of course, who else would I come to see? Though naturally, I'm glad that you are here tonight. I had planned a lonely evening. John doesn't know that I got off the road and missed my way until late. I was with him all day and he thinks I'm safe at Windigo. I would only worry him if I let him know."
Rowe pulled at his cigar.
"He's so busy! You'll hardly know him, Phil; he's quite changed."
"I expect so," drily. Pause.
"Why don't we walk?" Rowe asked. "I've ridden all—"
"Fine! Such a night!"
They went together, slowly, out along the board sidewalk to where it became but two planks laid side by side in the sand, and finally off that into the road itself.
"Don't you think John is doing wonderfully," Marcia asked.
Rowe shrugged and threw away his cigar rather impetuously, as though it had not pleased his taste. "He's doing something, yes, but the old man can't trust him. He's a kid in business; been lucky, but he has a deal on and Luke won't trust him to go it alone; that's why I am here."
Marcia lowered her face and he would have been startled had he seen its intentness. "But I thought his father was greatly pleased with what he had done?"
"Oh, in a way," grudgingly. "He doesn't trust him like he does me." There was something like a childish boast in the last.
