She carried her gloves in her hand.
Hurstwood looked up at her with delight.
"You came, dearest," he said eagerly, standing to meet her and taking her hand.
"Of course," she said, smiling; "did you think I wouldn't ?" "I didn't know," he replied.
He looked at her forehead, which was moist from her brisk walk.

Then he took out one of his own soft, scented silk handkerchiefs and touched her face here and there.
"Now," he said affectionately, "you're all right." They were happy in being near one another--in looking into each other's eyes.

Finally, when the long flush of delight had sub sided, he said: "When is Charlie going away again ?" "I don't know," she answered.

"He says he has some things to do for the house here now." Hurstwood grew serious, and he lapsed into quiet thought.

He looked up after a time to say: "Come away and leave him." He turned his eyes to the boys with the boats, as if the request were of little importance.
"Where would we go ?" she asked in much the same manner, rolling her gloves, and looking into a neighboring tree.
"Where do you want to go ?" he enquired.
There was something in the tone in which he said this which made her feel as if she must record her feelings against any local habitation.
"We can't stay in Chicago," she replied.
He had no thought that this was in her mind--that any removal would be suggested.
"Why not ?" he asked softly.
"Oh, because," she said, "I wouldn't want to." He listened to this with but dull perception of what it meant.