In the soft clear twilight,
fragrant with the smell of clover and water lily and rimmed now by the
rising moon, Philip found his resolution of the afternoon difficult to
utter. The pool at his feet was a motionless mirror of summer stars.
Surely there could be nothing but peace in this tranquil world of tree
and grass and murmuring river. And yet--
"Do take that ridiculous pipe out of your mouth and say something!"
exclaimed Diane restlessly. "You look as if you were smoking a
pumpkin! Besides, the supper's all packed up in hot stones and grass
to keep it hot. Why moon so and shoot pebbles at the frogs?"
"Well," said Philip abruptly, "do you mind if I say that your trip
seems a most imprudent venture?"
"By no means!" replied Diane with maddening composure. "But it's only
fair to warn you that my aunt's already said all there is to say on the
subject. The horses may drop dead," she reviewed swiftly on her slim
brown fingers, "Johnny may fall heir to an apoplectic fit and fall on a
horse thereby inducing him to run away into a swamp and sink in
quicksand. I may be kidnapped and held for ransom in the wilds of
Connecticut and the van may burn up some night when I'm asleep in it.
Then I may eat poison berries in a fit of absent-mindedness, I may fall
into a river while I'm fishing, forget how to swim, and drown, Johnny
may gather amanitas and kill us both, and something or other may bite
me.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101