I've simply got to talk to you."
But neither Cass nor Quin was to have the privilege. Mr. Martel announced
that he was going to escort her himself. The only crumb of comfort that
Quin was able to snatch from the wretched evening was when he was helping
her on with her coat in the hall.
"When can I see you?" he whispered anxiously.
"I don't know," she whispered back; "every hour's taken."
"What about Sunday afternoon?"
"I've promised to motor out to Anchordale with Aunt Flo and Uncle Ranny
to hunt for wild flowers. Think of it! When all this trouble's brewing."
"Anchordale," repeated Quin absently, holding her coat suspended by the
collar and one sleeve. "Anchordale! By golly! I've got an idea! Say, I'm
going along Sunday. You manage it somehow."
"But I can't manage it! You aren't invited; and, besides----"
"I can't help that--I'm going. What time do you start?"
"Three o'clock. But you can't go, I tell you! They won't understand."
"All ready, Nellie?" called a voice on the stairway; and Papa Claude,
with a smile of perfect serenity on his face, bore lightly and
consciously down upon them.
CHAPTER 16
During the rushing Easter vacation, Eleanor had seen less of Harold
Phipps than Quin had feared.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189