There she was in her fur coat, not so much frightened, he thought, as hurt. She was querulous with agitation.
"All right, Milly," he said, and put an arm through hers, "here I am. And the house isn't alone. Don't get so nervous. Next thing you know, you'll have to see a specialist."
"And Charlotte's gone," she lamented sharply, allowing him to march her in and turning, in the warm hall, to confront him. "Here I've been all alone."
"Where's Jerry?"
Raven had thrown off his hat and coat and frankly owned himself tired.
"In the kitchen. But he won't tell where Charlotte is. He says she's gone up along."
"Well, so she has, to a neighbor's. Come into the library and get 'het' through before you go to bed."
"And," she lamented, letting him give her a kindly push toward the door, "I've got to pack, myself, if Charlotte doesn't come."
"Pack?" He stared at her. "You're not leaving?"
"Yes, John." She said it portentously, as bidding him remember he might be sorry when she was no more. "I'm going. Dick has telegraphed."