“Oh, yes,” he cried, “we are very close to each other––I couldn’t begin to tell you how close.”
“And I have also hinted,” pursued Barnes, “that you never have any secrets from each other, and that I felt sure that you knew all about––all about––a––a er––to-night.”
“Oh, of course,” assented Gladwin, beginning to warm up to his part and feel the rich thrill of the mystery involved. “Yes, yes––of course––he’s told me all about to-night.”
“Has he?” gasped Helen, looking into the young man’s brown eyes for confirmation, feeling that she liked the eyes, but uncertain that she read the confirmation.
“Yes, everything,” lied Gladwin, now glowing with enthusiasm.
All this while the shy and silent Sadie had remained demurely in her chair looking from one to the other and vainly endeavoring to catch the drift of the conversation.
Sadie was too dainty a little soul to be possessed of real reasoning faculties. The one thought that had been uppermost in her mind all day was that Helen was taking a desperate step, probably embarking upon some terrible tragedy. She had hungered for 87 an opportunity to compare notes with some sturdier will than her own and the instant she heard Travers Gladwin admit that he “knew all about to-night” she rose from her chair and asked, breathlessly, turning up her big, appealing eyes to Travers Gladwin:
“Then won’t you––oh, please, won’t you––tell her what you think of it?”
There was something so naïve and innocent in Sadie’s attitude and expression that Whitney Barnes was charmed. It also tickled his soul to see how thoroughly his friend was stumped. So to add to Travers’s confusion he chimed in:
“Oh, yes, go on and tell her what you think of it.”