Fork next week?" she demanded. "I have never
seen one. Buckley Simmons says all sorts of things
happen. He's going to take me on Saturday. I
wish--" she broke off pointedly.

"What?"

"I was going to say that I wish, well -- I wish I
were going with somebody else than Buckley; he
bothers me all the time."

"I'd like a lot to take you. It's not fit for you
to go, though. The best people in Greenstream
don't. They get crazy with religion, and with rum;
often as not there's shooting."

"Oh! I had no idea. I don't know as I will go.
I wish you would be there. If I go will you be there
to look out for me?"

"I hadn't thought of it. Still, if you're there, and
want me around, I guess that's where I will be."

"I feel better right away; I'll see you then; it's a
sort of engagement between you and me. Buckley
Simmons needn't know. Perhaps we can slip away
from him for a while."

Voices rose from below them, and they drew back
instinctively. Gordon found in this desire to avoid
observation an additional bond with Meta Beggs;
the aspect of secrecy gave a flavor to their communion.
They remained silent, with their shoulders
pressed together, until the voices, the footfalls,
faded into the distance.

[[180]]

p179 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p180w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p181

v?