"I should think so," said Indiana, "climbing White Face after being up
all night! I'll order some tea for you, and then you'd better go to
bed."
She sprang from the hammock and disappeared, returning again in a
moment.
"Thank you, Indiana. I'm glad I went. It was magnificent! The view as
clear as possible, and snow on the summit!"
"I thought we might see you and Haller from the lake, but I couldn't get
Lord Canning away from the camp to-day. He was so lazy."
Lord Canning smiled. He had his own reasons for staying home, having
resolved not to let the day pass without speaking to his host of the
subject of Indiana. So far there had been no opportunity. The family
did not appear until lunch-time, and ever since, Stillwater had been
closeted, writing business letters.
Though excessively fatigued, Glen felt immeasurably better for climbing
White Face. The physical tax had cleared his brain. He had been
exhilarated by the cold, rare air on the summit. He drank his tea with
a pleasurable sense of lassitude, and, his eyes fixed on Indiana
swinging in the hammock, replied rather absently to Lord Canning's
questions regarding the ascent.
Lord Canning rose, closing his Tennyson. "I think I'll stroll down to
the lake, Miss Stillwater, if you don't mind." He smiled at Glen, with
a feeling of generosity.
Indiana looked after him thoughtfully as he strolled down through the
trees.
"He's a thorough gentleman--so unobtrusive. He never asks prying
questions--and he's never in the way."
"Too slow for me," replied Glen, watching her narrowly. "But I suppose
you must have someone to flirt with."