“Thought you was away.”

“I was. In fact, I am, really. I just got sick of it and ran away for a day. Drove. Alone. The family’ll be wild.”

“All the way?” said the policeman, incredulously. “Say, I thought that looked like your car standing out there by the road; but I says no, she ain’t in town.” He looked sharply at Nick, whose face had an Indian composure, though his feelings were mixed. “Who’s this?”

“He’s a friend of mine. His name’s Pan.” She was drying her feet with an inadequate rose-coloured handkerchief. She crept crabwise up the bank, and put on her stockings and slippers.

“Why’n’t you come out and set on a bench?”