She had
been conscious enough of his spare waist, his sinewy arms, his swelling
chest. "It was easy enough to see where the noise came from," she said,
looking him over.
"Yes, I supplied the noise--and that only. It was Peter, please remember,
who supplied the muscle."
She declined to let her mind dwell on Peter. Peter possessed no charm.
Besides, he was prosaically on the payroll.
They continued to saunter along the sand. Yesterday's sparse clouds had
vanished, along with much of yesterday's wind. The waters that had tumbled
and vociferated now merely murmured. The lake stood calmly blue, and the
new green was thickening on the hills. Confident birds flitted busily among
the trees and shrubs. Spring was disclosed in its most alluring mood.
Suddenly three or four figures appeared on the beach, a quarter of a mile
away. They had descended through one of the sandy and ravaged channelings
which broke at intervals the regulated rim of the hills, and they came on
toward our two strollers. Medora closed her eyes to peer at them. "Are they
marching a prisoner?" she asked.
"They all appear to be walking free.
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