or a sand trap, not a hint of hazard or rough. This was the effect of Jessica upon Val.
These were the things of which Val thought as he jerked his way back to the hotel in his antiquated, horseless bus. A week ago life had been nothing but a dull round to him; getting up, getting through the day and evening in a half-hearted fashion, going to bed again, and repeat ad lib and ad infinitum. That was life. Now things were different. There was a zest to living, a purpose in Life—he expressed it in capital letters. And all because a girl had hair that had a hint of color in its depths . . . and those eyes! . . . this was good for another fifteen minutes with Val, until he pulled up in front of the hotel.
He found Eddie Hughes standing outside the hotel, talking animatedly to what was obviously a newly, found friend. Eddie spotted him as soon as his car drew up at the curb; asking his acquaintance to wait, he hastened to speak to Val.
It appeared that the friend was not a new friend at all; it was a friend he had known in the army. There had been talk of going to the moving pictures in Hampton, the “supper show,” which finished about, nine or thereabouts. He would like to go, but only if there was no need of him this evening.
This rather fitted in with Val’s ideas; although he had intended to take Eddie along, yet there seemed to be no real reason for doing so. There seemed no possible chance of danger; and if there was, Val rather had an idea he could handle the situation by himself. He told Eddie in a few words how to get out to the Pomeroy place, and what he intended to do to-night. Eddie was to follow him after the show, and wait for him at Jessica’s cottage.
