Grayson
was testing himself again, and, angry
with him for the absurdity of the thing
and with myself for humoring it, but
still not sure of him, I picked up my hat
and went. I swore to myself silently
that it was the last time I should pay
any heed to his whims. I believed this
would be the last. The affair with the
girl was over. The flower sent, I knew
Grayson would never mention her name
again.
Nature was radiant that afternoon.
The mountains had the leafy luxuriance
of June, and a rich, sunlit haze
drowsed on them between the shadows
starting out over the valley and the
clouds so white that the blue of the sky
looked dark. Two eagles shot across
the mouth of the Gap as we neared it,
and high beyond buzzards were sailing
over Grayson's rhododendron.
I went up the ravine with him and
I climbed up behind him--Grayson
going very deliberately and whistling
softly. He called down to me when he
reached the shelf that looked half-way.
``You mustn't come any farther than
this,'' he said. ``Get out on that rock
and I'll drop them down to you.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66