"Impossible," said Dick. "They'd think you were crazy."
"Perhaps I am," Courtney replied. "Anyhow, we're going."
"Why?"
"I need a change."
"Put it off till spring." And he resumed the newspaper as if the matter
were disposed of.
"No. To-morrow," said she, not in the least aggressively; but her tone
was of unalterable determination.
"Or, if you must go somewhere, why not Saint X? You can visit Pauline
Scarborough or the Hargraves--and bring Helen March back with you."
"I prefer the farm."