But you never heard me complain about physical discomfort, now, did you?”
“No, gentle Val. And I told Mac that if you found your bedroom full of rats and the soup full of cockroaches it would be nothing to what I’ve seen you oblivious to, and that you would be out of the place all day and most of the evenings at the office. Oh, hullo! Here are some of the committee.”
He turned as two men came round the corner of the shed.
Valerie looked keenly at Tom Allison and Ray Bolton, the bank managers of the town. One glance at them told her they would mean nothing in her life, and that they probably meant little in the lives of anybody else.
“Sorry you had to arrive on our hottest day, Miss Carr,” said Allison, looking at her with a deliberately inviting and admiring gaze. Young women of manifest attractions did not constitute one of the reasons for the fame of Dargaville.
“Oh, I shan’t judge the town by its hottest day,” retorted Valerie.
Just then the second net full of trunks and boxes fell about their feet. She pointed out her belongings, and Bob beckoned to a carter waiting near. Then they all walked the few feet of wooden planks to the dusty sidewalk of River Street.
The bankers claimed Valerie in conversation. They assured her that Dargaville was quite a live little place, that there was a nice exclusive little set, and a good bridge club. They parted from her and Bob at the corner of Queen Street, remarking that their wives would call as soon as they returned from the coast.
Her eyes twinkled at Bob. “Is that the best the place can do?”
