Should she take one look, or go back?
She would go back.

It was none of her business, unfortunately.

But she was drawn on and on, until she could see into the long, low, masculine room.
A man was sitting on the arm of a sofa, a man with square shoulders and a deep chest, a man with his strong young face turned to the light, smiling-- "Marty," cried Joan.

"Marty!" and went up and across the veranda and into the room.

"Why, Marty," and held out her hand, all glad and tremulous.
And Martin got on his feet and stood in amazement, wide-eyed, and suddenly white.
"You here!" cried Joan.