"That's my train," he said, rising briskly. "Are you coming with me, or
are you going to stay here?"
"I am going to stay. But you can't leave me like this! It's pouring rain
and I haven't any umbrella, and if I get to the hotel and he isn't there,
what shall I do? Why don't you help me, Quin? Why don't you stay with me
till he comes?"
"Sorry," said Quin, steeling his heart against those appealing eyes and
praying for strength to be firm, "but I've got to be ready to go back to
work to-morrow morning. Is it good-by?"
He held out his hand, but she did not take it. Instead she clutched his
sleeve.
"What would _you_ do, Quin?" she asked. "Tell me honestly, not what you
want me to do, or think I ought to do, but what would you do in my
place?"
In spite of his pretended haste, he stopped to consider the matter.
"Well," he admitted frankly, "it would depend entirely on how much I
trusted the fellow I'd promised to marry."
"I _do_ trust him, and I'm going to marry him; but, you see, Rose's
telegram, and his not being here, and all, have made me so unhappy! I
know he can explain everything when I see him, only I don't know what to
do now.
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