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108 had reached the road in pursuit of Miss Oliver, and found no trace of her either to left or right, he was sure he didn't like it. He was obliged to get into his automobile and ride back to the city alone! It was only two miles, easy walking-distance, if Miss Oliver preferred to walk. Vincent hoped he might overtake her. He didn't like leaving a thing unfinished in this sort of manner! But there were several routes back to town, and he didn't choose the right one.

He called up the Farnums' house an hour later. It was reported that Miss Oliver had returned, but she couldn't come to the telephone. She was lying down, with a headache.

Vincent was distinctly annoyed. Elizabeth Oliver had seemed so understanding—so sympathetic, but at the crisis, at the great moment she had failed utterly in fine appreciation. And she continued to fail utterly. She wouldn't see Vincent when he called the next day. Sent down another flimsy excuse about a headache. And the following morning, without a word of explanation, she broke a golf date, which had been made before the expedition to the hill-top. Her manner implied a quarrel. Vincent had thought her the best sort of sportsman in the world. Taking offense when no offense was intended was not sportsmanlike.