in two minds about calling off the projected walk. As he set aside his
half-emptied cup of coffee--not even tactful enough to finish it out of
compliment to her brew--Banneker said:

"Up beyond the turn yonder the right-of-way crosses an arroyo. I want to
take a look at it. We can cut through the woods to get there. Are you
good for three miles?"

"For a hundred!" cried Io.

The wine of life was potent in her veins.




CHAPTER VIII


Before the walk was over, Io knew Banneker as she had never before, in
her surrounded and restricted life, known any man; the character and
evolution and essence of him. Yet with all his frankness, the rare,
simple, and generous outgiving of a naturally rather silent nature
yielding itself to an unrecognized but overmastering influence, he
retained the charm of inner mystery. Her sudden understanding of him
still did not enable her to place him in any category of life as she
knew it to be arranged.

The revelation had come about through her description of her encounter
with the queer and attentive bird of the desert.