"I suppose so. But she may not accept me. Do you think she will?"
"If I have an opinion, I'm not going to tell you. Only—keep your ring."
So I had to keep it. And all day, while again we passed flowery Boskoop (not so flowery now) quaint Gouda, and the other little towns which carried me back in mind to the beginning of our trip, I wondered and puzzled over the change in that lady of mystery, the L.C.P.
XXXIII
We slept in Rotterdam, at the old hotel in the park where the Angels were staying when first they came into my life.
The next day was a memorable one in van Buren annals, for the new fiancée was to be received as such, into the bosom of the family.
Robert and the twins had left us on our arrival in Rotterdam, for the town house is still closed for the summer, and the "residence" is at Scheveningen. It was for the brother and sisters to pave the way for Phyllis, and solve (if they could) the mystery which must have wrapped the unsigned telegram announcing the engagement.
In the morning, before any of us had had breakfast, back came Robert in one of Brederode's cast-off automobiles (Alb seems to shed motor-cars and motor-boats along the path of life, as most people shed old shoes) bringing a note from Madame at the Villa van Buren.