Slowly he skirted the curving beach and reached the weathered cottage
where the sun beat hotly down, kissing into flower every bud of the
clinging roses that festooned its gray doorway. Willie welcomed him
but a glory had passed from the old man's face since the conversation
of the night before. How could it be otherwise? Sleepless hours had
left behind them weary, careworn lines; and in the troubled depths of
the blue eyes the old interrogation had once more awakened. Bob knew
not how to meet its silent combat between hope and disappointment, and
he hailed as a glad relief the beating echo of the Galbraiths'
motor-car as it swept the horseshoe outline of the harbor and came to a
stop before the gate.
Mr. Galbraith, who was alone, beckoned to him, and as the younger man
climbed to the seat beside him said:
"I thought perhaps you might like to go for a spin along the shore. It
is warm to-day and we shall get more breeze; besides, we can talk more
freely in the automobile than here or at the Belleport house. Roger
has just arrived and also Howard Snelling.
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