Annesley blushed, and for the first time since Easter eve looked for help to Knight. But he was silent, and she blundered on, not daring to pause lest the firm-willed little lady should seal her to a promise in spite of herself.
"You're very kind, and it would be delightful," she hurried along, "but I didn't mean that I was to stop in New York. I——"
"Oh, you are going together!" Mrs. Waldo caught her up. "I didn't understand. Well, I'm sorry for our sakes. But couldn't you spare us two or three days before you start?"
"I—am afraid we must wait for another time," said Annesley. "My husband has business. He can't waste a day——"
"Surely you won't turn your back on New York the day you arrive, the first time you've ever seen it!" cried the New York woman. "Why, it's sacrilege! You must stay with us one night. If you could see the darling new room we'll put you in: old rose and pearl gray, and Cupids holding up the bed curtains!"
In desperation the girl stuck to her point, no longer daring to look at Knight.
"Indeed we mustn't stay, even for one night. If there's a train the same afternoon——"
"There's a lovely train," Mrs. Waldo admitted, unable to resist praising the American railway system. "We call it the 'Limited.' You can have a beautiful stateroom, and run right through to Chicago without changing. If they must go, we'll see them off, won't we, Steve?" with a glance for the silent husband, "and bring them books and chocolates and flowers?"
What was left for Annesley to say? Short of informing the kindly couple that they were not wanted and had better mind their own business, and refusing to decide upon a train, she could do nothing except thank Mrs. Waldo.
"Perhaps," she thought, "they will forget, and things will settle themselves between now and then. Or else I shall patch up some excuse."