Ruthie did not reappear until nearly ten o’clock, and then came in with many apologies for having been detained. Martin, by that time, had heard all the news, had heard of Roy and Alice, of poor unfortunate Doc French, of ’Dolph Kuntz, and Fritz and Steve, and even of some of the changes in the publishing company which interested him. He was far from satisfied, however, and wanted to go over it all once more.
“Say, do you remember that night, Jan, you and I and that Scotch friend of yours and that awful fright he took along with him had dinner up on the Astor roof? What became of that guy?”
And——
“D’you ’member that time we got stuck out in the Sound aboard the Websters’ yacht? ... Say, do they have any more racing down there? ... What’s become of all the little A-boats?”
But Jeannette knew the time for leave-taking had come. She rose smiling.
“I’m sorry, Martin; I shall have to say good-night. I really must be going. My day’s very full to-morrow.”
He was loud in protest, a little unnecessarily loud, Jeannette thought. She tried to dissuade him from accompanying her back to the hotel, but he insisted.
“I wouldn’t think of you riding back all by yourself, Jan! That wouldn’t do at all. The car’s right here; the man’s waiting. He’ll run me in and run me out again in less than an hour; I’ll be home again in no time.”
Ruthie urged, too.
“Oh, yes,” she insisted brightly. “You must let Martin take you back to town; it won’t hurt him a bit, and you two have such a lot to talk over together about old times and everything.”