"It was my first trip into the mountains, I remember," said Rutlidge,
easily. "I met you at Brian Oakley's home."
Without replying, she turned to Aaron King appealingly. "I--I left my
gloves and fly-book. I was going fishing and called to get them."
The artist gave her the articles with a word of regret for having so
carelessly forgotten to return them to her. With a simple "good-by" to her
two friends but without even a glance toward their caller, she went back
up the canyon, in the direction from which she had come.
When the girl had disappeared among the trees, James Rutlidge said, with
his meaning smile, "Really, I owe you an apology for dropping in so
unexpectedly. I--"
Conrad Lagrange interrupted him, curtly. "No apology is due, sir."
"No?" returned Rutlidge, with a rising inflection and a drawling note in
his voice that was almost too much for the others. "I really must be
going, anyway," he continued. "My party will be some distance ahead. Sure
you wouldn't care to join us?"
"Thanks! Sorry! but we cannot this time. Good of you to ask us," came from
Aaron King and the novelist.
"Can't say that I blame you," their caller returned. "The fishing used to
be fine in this neighborhood.
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