She repaired bright and early to the little office at the
back of the house where her grandfather had worked before her,
and there she struggled over accounts, reports, claims,--and her
cheque-book. And like her grim, silent grandsire, she "rode" the
lanes that twined through field and timber,--only she rode gaily,
blithely, with sunshine in her heart. The darkness was always behind
her, never ahead.
Courtney undoubtedly had overcome the prejudice his visit to
Quill's Window had inspired in her. They never spoke of that first
encounter. It was as a closed book between them. He had forgotten
the incident. At any rate, he had put it out of his mind. He sometimes
wondered, however, if she would ever invite him to accompany her
to the top of that forbidden hill. In their rambles they had passed
the closed gate on more than one occasion. The words, "No Trespass,"
still met the eye. Some day he would suggest an adventure: the
descent to the cave in quest of treasure! The two of them! Rope
ladder and all! It would be great fun!
He was assiduous in his efforts to amuse her house guests. He laid
himself out to be entertaining. If he resented the presence of young
men from the city, he managed to conceal his feelings remarkably
well. On one point he was firm: he would not accompany her on any
of her trips to the city. Once she had invited him to motor in with
her to a tea, and another time she offered to drive him about the
city and out to the college on a sight-seeing tour.
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