“It does n’t cut much ice where I go,” Barney answered. “They ’ll get me.”
“Please don’t,” she entreated Whately. “Talk about something else. Were you flooded out, last night?”
Barney gathered that he was camping in the woods nearby, but the location of the camp was not indicated. They began to talk about the news that they had read in the previous day’s paper. Barney heard them, inattentively. His mind was occupied. He looked, once, for a long time, at Mary Langton. He liked her.
She knew it. “What is it, Barney?”
“Nothin’,” he said, reddening.
“Have some bacon?”
“I had some.”
“Have some more.”
“Nuh-uh. Had enough.”
Whately ht a cigarette and inhaled it thoughtfully.
“I ’m goin’ out on the veranda,” Barney said, at last—having eaten all he could. He
