Читать книгу White Magic. A Novel онлайн

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“What are you doing here?” he demanded with friendly severity as he came forward. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

At sound of his voice her drooping form straightened ecstatically. At sight of him, looking more tremendous than ever in the big waterproofs, she gave a smile like a sunburst. “You’re frightfully late!” she reproached.

“Late! We can’t work to-day.”

“You didn’t tell me not to come if it rained,” said she, with a convincing air of innocence. “And—I didn’t want to lose a day’s pay.”

He was still frowning. “I came very near not coming at all,” said he. “It was by the merest accident that I took my walk in this direction.”

“But—you did,” said she slyly.

“Why not?” was his carefully careless reply. “I walk, rain or shine.”

“I don’t mind rain, either—when I’m prepared for it,” said she cheerfully. “You don’t know how fascinating canoeing in the rain is.”

But he was not convinced. He stood staring gloomily out over the lake, as if he were seeing formidable enemies approaching under cover of the thick, blue mist. “I’ve got to go in a few minutes,” said he almost curtly. “I’ve arranged for a trip to town, as I can’t work to-day.”