Richard nodded. "You certainly did," he said. "And I see no occasion to
question the statement."
His eyes met Roberta's. Never in his life had the thought of a
cross-country walk in the rain so appealed to him. At the moment he
would have given his eagerly planned trip to the Far East for the chance
to march by her side to-day, even though the course should lie through
the marshes of West Wood, unquestionably the wettest place in the
country on that particular wet afternoon. But nobody would think of
inviting him to go--of course not. And while Roberta and Ted were
dashing along country lanes--he could imagine how her cheeks would look,
stung with rain, drops clinging to those bewildering lashes of hers--he
himself would be looking up references in dry and dusty State Supreme
Court records, and making notes with a fountain pen--a fountain
pen--symbol of the student. What abominable luck!
Roberta was laughing as his eyes met hers. The gay curve of her lips
recalled to him one of the things Ted had said about her, concerning a
certain boyish quality in her makeup, and he was strongly tempted to
tell her of it.
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