Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/60

 to pile the wood again in the east corner. There will probably come another tramp very soon—they are very prevalent this month, I hear.”

Her lodger left his low wicker seat—a proof of enormous excitement—and frowned at her.

“Do you seriously mean, Miss Gould, that you are going to run the risk of another such—such catastrophe? It is absurd. I cannot believe it of you! Is there no other way—”

But he had been standing a long while, it occurred to him, and he retired to the chair again. A splinter of wood on his immaculate white flannel coat caught his eye, and a slow smile spread over his handsome, lazy face. It grew and grew until at last a distinct chuckle penetrated to the dusky corner where the Indian chair leaned back against dull Oriental draperies. Its occupant attempted to rise, her face stern, her mouth unrelenting. He was at her side instantly.