"We have sown a seed!" said Billy Foot. "I'll drop a word to Gilly to keep the offer open. Now you must go, girls, because I've got some work to do in the world, though you never seem to believe it."
"Heavens, I must go too!" cried Andy, with a horrified look at his watch.
"All right, you go," said Miss Dutton. "We promised to meet a man here at half-past three and go motoring."
"Did we? I don't believe we did," objected the Nun. "I don't think I want to go."
"Then don't," said Miss Dutton. "I shall go anyhow."
"Well, I'll wait and see the car," the Nun conceded. She did not appear to have any curiosity about its owner. "You really must come and see me—and don't go back to Canada!" she called after Andy. Then, when she was alone with her friend, she said, "No, I shan't come motoring, Sally, I shall go home and write a letter. So much trouble is caused in this world by people being afraid to do the obvious thing. Now I'm never afraid to do the obvious thing."
"That's just what you said the night you found me—and took me home with you," said Miss Dutton. She spoke very low, and her voice was strangely soft.
"It was the obvious thing to do, and I did it," the Nun pursued, shaking her head at Sally in mild rebuke of an uncalled-for touch of sentiment. "I shall do the obvious thing now. I shall write to Mr. Jack Rock."
"You'll get yourself into a row, meddling with other people's business."
"Oh no, I shan't," said the Nun serenely. "I shall insist on a personal interview before my action is condemned. I generally come out of personal interviews all right."