After dinner the party strolled up and down the veranda, gradually separating into couples. The twilight creeping down found Harvey and Miss Porter alone by the railing. She stood erect, looking out over the valley, her scarlet golf jacket thrown back, her hair disordered by the long ride and curling about her face. Harvey watched her in silence. He was glad that she was tall; he liked to meet her eyes without looking down. He had often tried to remember the color of those eyes. Presently she turned and looked at him.
“They're gray,” he said, half to himself.
“No,” she replied; “sometimes they are brown and sometimes green. They are not gray.”
For a moment they stood looking into each other's eyes, then she turned away with a little laugh and removed her sailor hat, swinging it from her hand.
“Look,” she said, with an impulsive gesture toward the west. Harvey followed her gaze. The dark was settling into the valley. There were splotches of foliage and waves of meadow, with a few winding strips of silver where the river broke away from the trees. “And to think that we have only a few more such days.”
“Yes,”--he spoke softly,--“we don't see things like that in Chicago.”
“So long as Mr. Weeks stays in Chicago, I am likely to be there too.”
“I never met him--I've heard a great deal about him.” She sat upon the railing and leaned back against a pillar, her eyes turned to the foliage. “Father says he is a good business man.”
“Mr. West,” she threw her head back with a peremptory toss--“I want you to tell me something.”
“Wait,” he replied, “come to the river. Then I'll tell you anything.”
She smiled, but acquiesced, and they went down the path. Harvey drew up a cedar boat and extended his hand, but she stepped lightly aboard without his aid. Harvey pushed away from the bank and began slowly to paddle against the current.
“Now,” he said, “the Sister Confessor may proceed.”
She looked up at him. He thought she was smiling, but she spoke earnestly.
“I want you to tell me about this M. & T. fight.”
“I don't believe there is anything to tell.”
“You men are all alike. You think a girl can't understand business.” She seemed to be musing. “You like a girl who is helpless and fluttery, who can be patronized.”