“He said,” stammered Allan, confused by the sudden question; “he said it was all right.”
What Mr. Heywood really said was: “All right. Keep her there and bring her in on thirteen, and don’t make love to her any more than you can help.”
She noticed the stammer and gazed at him with her clear eyes, which, he saw now, were blue.
“Was that all he said?”
“Well, he said he’d meet you at the train this evening.”
“Yes; and what else?”
“He said,” answered Allan, floundering desperately, “that, if you had to be left somewhere, he was glad it was here.”
The Vision bent over ostensibly to brush an imaginary speck of dust from her skirt, but in reality to conceal a smile. When she sat erect again, her face was quite demure.
“So am I,” she agreed. “It would have been horrible to be left at a place where I didn’t know any one—of course, I don’t really know you,” she added, hastily, “but I’ve heard papa speak of you so much that you seem to be a sort of friend of the family.”