seemed to have sunk deep into a green nest with the sound of the waves lowered to a whisper floating away over their heads.
“Oh, how I should love to have a tent down here and come to sleep. Who owns it?”
“Benton, of course. He owns almost everything about Dargaville.”
Round the next corner they saw through the trees a little way off a row of five small cottages. Anything that stood in rows annoyed Valerie.
“The fools,” she sneered. “Don’t they see enough of each other in the town? Good heavens! I hope we are not going to meet them all.”
“I’m afraid we are. They were gathered to meet me two weeks ago. But they mean to be kind.”
“Damn it, Bob, don’t talk such rot. If they had asked Miss Hands I might grant that, but you know perfectly well they don’t mean to be kind. I wouldn’t have come if I had thought twice. At least I’m not going to know here anybody I don’t want to know. I’m not going to waste time that way.”
Bob grinned. “This will make you madder still, they all think you and I are engaged.”
“Oh, hell, Bob, what does it matter what they think”
They found the adult population of the gully gathered on the Benton verandah and at the mere sight of them Valerie’s eyes glared.
“Now, Val,” whispered Bob, “do be decent. The poor devils didn’t make themselves.”
But it must be confessed that Valerie behaved badly. It was nothing to her that it was the inner circle of Dargaville that was lolling languidly there on deck chairs consumed with a curiosity it was trying not to show about the much talked of daughter of Davenport Carr. She
