Fan's, moved and its fingers twined with the older woman's. Fan lowered her voice and went on. Later they walked together, arm in arm, up and down the terrace before the house and Marcia cried a bit and steadied and grew indignant.
Before they went in they stood looking at the play of northern lights.
"You would do that?" Marcia asked in the pause.
"Positively I would! I wouldn't let a day go by. If there should be another girl—"
"Oh, there isn't! I'm sure he isn't interested in Miss Foraker!" There were limits to which Marcia could go even in that sympathetic company and her pride prompted that lie. "It's—it's just that he's so wrapped up in his business."
"Well, in either case," Fan was not quite convinced, it seemed, "the best way to bring him to time is to go there, have it out."
Marcia watched the bank of light on the horizon throw out a fresh fringe of pale green.
"Miss Foraker has asked me to come," she lied again. "I might—Yes, I think you're right. I could drive over—tomorrow—"
Fan patted her hands.
"That's the girl! Don't be too abrupt with him, but just have everything clearly understood. Of course, I know your feeling for John, but I can't help remarking, as Dr. Mason remarked to Dick yesterday when the big trout went through his tackle, 'there are several big ones left in the stream yet'—
"And if I were you, Marcia dear, I'd wear that blue sport suit—"
