Whatever was to be done must be done at once, for
Harold Phipps might arrive at any moment, and Quin felt instinctively
that his advent would decide the matter.
"I wish I had enough to send you," he said, "but all I've got is my
return ticket and enough to buy another one for you."
At the mere suggestion Eleanor's anger flared.
"I'll never go back to grandmother's! I'll jump in the lake first!"
"What's the matter with Valley Mead?"
"What good would that do? Grandmother would make Uncle Ranny send me
straight home. No; I've thought of all those things--it's no use."
"You could go to the Martels'."
"Yes, and put another burden on Cass. I tell you, I'm not going home. I
am going to see Harold, and--and talk things over, and perhaps go
straight on to New York to-night."
"You can't see him if he is out of town."
"Why do you think he is out of town?"
"Well, he isn't here," Quin observed dryly.
The next moment he was sorry he had said it, for the light died out of
her face and she looked so absurdly young and helpless that it was all he
could do to refrain from gathering her up in his arms and carrying her
home by force.
"See here, Miss Nell," he said earnestly, leaning across the table.
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