I haven't been out this road this season--as far as this.
I'm beginning to wonder where you are taking us."
"To the hill where you and Miss Ruth and Ted and I toasted sandwiches
last November. Could there be a better place for the end--of our ride?
You haven't been out here this season--are you sure?"
"No, indeed. I've been too busy with the close of school to ride
anywhere--much less away out here."
"You like my choice, then? I hoped you would."
"Very much."
It was a queer, breathless sort of talking; Roberta hardly knew what she
was saying. She much preferred to ride along in silence. The hour was at
hand--so close at hand! And there was now no getting away. She knew
perfectly that her agreeing to come at all had told him his answer; none
but the most cruel of women would allow a man to bring her upon such a
ride, in the company of other interested people, only to refuse him at
the end of it. But she had to admit to herself that if he were now
exulting in the sure hope of possessing her he was keeping it well out
of sight. There was now none of the arrogant self-confidence in his
manner toward her which there had been on the February night when he had
made a certain prophecy concerning Midsummer.
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