CHAPTER XVIII
The hotel patio was full of people just out from dinner. In the midst of a crowd of acquaintances Captain Cameron stood, laughing and talking with those around him.
All at once a voice at his elbow said tensely:
"Bob, I want to speak to you alone for a moment."
He turned quickly. Then he stood surveying the speaker with surprise, for the girl beside him looked very different from the Pansy he knew. There was an almost tortured air about her. Her face was set and white; there were deep, dark rings under eyes that were limpid pools of pain.
"Hello, old pal, what has happened?" he asked, with concern.
Pansy did not stop to answer him. With impatient hands she led him away from the crowd of listening, staring people into a quiet corner.
"I'm going back to England at once. To-night! Help me to get off, please," she said.
With blank amazement Cameron stared at her.
"What's got hold of you now?" he managed to ask.
"I'm going home," she said, "at once."
"But I thought you were staying here until Sir George came out?"
"Well, I've changed my mind," she snapped. "And I'm going back, even if you aren't."
All Pansy wanted now was to get to the one other man she loved, her father. To get to him as quickly as possible with her bruised and wounded heart.
"Of course I'll come with you, old girl," Cameron said, a trifle helplessly. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you in the lurch. But you have a way of springing surprises on people. I'll send along and tell the captain to get steam up."
"Yes, do, Bob, please," she said gratefully. "And ask Miss Grainger to see about the packing. And find out where Jenkins is, and send him along to the stables. I—I'm past doing anything."
Cameron scanned the girl quickly, suddenly aware that something more than a whim was at the bottom of her hurried departure.
"What is it, Pansy?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered bravely. "But I get moods when I just feel I must see my old dad."
She turned away quickly to avoid any further questions, leaving Cameron staring at her receding back.