“Now, Jennie, you are hot and hasty again,” he said, rising, and passing his hand over her flushed brow. “You will force me to say what I had rather not. I received the silk innocently. That is all I can say at present.”
“You tell me much in that,” she said, with a smile of relief. “You do not know how sick at heart I felt when I thought you were accusing yourself. I believe you firmly, John. But, suppose they accuse you? Such an answer will not serve.”
“They will get no other. Not yet, at least.”
But we must close this conversation, as it ceases here to interest us. Shortly after, John saw her to the car, on her way home.
He had still another interview that afternoon. It was after Jennie was well on her way home, and he had returned to his office duties, that his name was called in the store, and he was informed that a gentleman had asked to see him.
He went out. The person who advanced to meet him was a stranger: a slender, sharp-eyed man.
“Mr. Elkton?” he asked, with a keen look at John’s face.
“That’s my name,” was the reply.
“I wish a few words with you,” he said, leading out of hearing of the salesman.
“I shall be happy to oblige you in any way,” said John, “but excuse me for hoping that you will be brief, as I am quite busy.”