A man rode quietly over the grass and stopped two rods away, that he
might fill his hungry eyes with the delicious loveliness of his Heart's
Desire.
"Got a bite yet?"
Dorman turned and wrinkled his nose, by way of welcome, and shook his
head vaguely, as though he might tell of several unimportant nibbles, if
it were worth the effort.
Beatrice sat a bit straighter, and dexterously whisked some pink
ruffles down over two distracting ankles, and hoped Keith had not taken
notice of them. He had, though; trust a man for that!
Keith dismounted, dropped the reins to the ground, and came and laid
himself down in the grass beside his Heart's Desire, and Beatrice
noticed how tall he was, and slim and strong.
"How did you know we were here?" she wanted to know, with lifted
eyebrows.
Keith wondered if there was a welcome behind that sweet, indifferent
face. He never could be sure of anything in Beatrice's face, because it
never was alike twice, it seemed to him--and if it spoke welcome for a
second, the next there was only raillery, or something equally
unsatisfying.
"I saw you from the trail," he answered promptly, evidently not
thinking it wise to mention the fieldglass. And then: "Is Dick at
home?" Not that he wanted Dick--but a fellow, even when he is in the
last stages of love, feels need of an excuse sometimes.
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