Then I'll tell
mother I gave her permission to go."
Miss Isobel pushed him toward the door as she spoke:
"You--you don't think anything dreadful could have happened to her, do
you?"
Quin patted her shoulder reassuringly.
"Of course not," he blustered. "She'll probably be in before I get around
the corner. If not, I bet I find her at the Martels', toasting
marshmallows."
In spite of his assumed confidence, he ran every step of the way home. As
he turned the corner he saw with dismay that the house was dark. His call
in the front hall brought no answer. He turned on the light, and saw an
unstamped letter addressed to himself on the table. The fact that the
writing was Eleanor's did not tend to decrease his alarm.
He tore off the envelop and read:
_Dear Quin:_
Grandmother has said things to me that I can never forgive as long as
I live. I am leaving her house in a few moments forever. By the time
you get this I shall be on my way to Chicago to join Harold Phipps.
We have been engaged for two weeks. I did not mean to marry him for
years and years, but I've simply _got_ to do something. He cares
more for me and my career than any one else in the world, and he
understands me better than anybody.
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