"You're the guiltiest-looking being I ever saw," he remarked. "I couldn't be retained to defend you unless you could contrive a different expression. Now take the advice of one who knows, and don't go near that bottle again this morning."
Sylvia gave a breathless little laugh, and her eyes shone through the embarrassment caused by his curious gaze.
"That's just"—she began. "No. Go along, please. I can't go with you."
"Creature of mysteries"—he began.
"Do go on. You really must get a boat. I'm ashamed to be borrowing Edna's clothes," and she ran away upstairs.
Half an hour later she was lost. Edna had been captured by her workmen. Miss Lacey was closeted with Jenny. Dunham lingered with the newspaper on the piazza, thinking he would speak once more with Sylvia before he left on his quest, but she did not reappear.
At last he went and stood beneath her window and called. He could see the white curtains swaying gently in the morning air, but no blithe face appeared between them. No voice answered his call.
Miss Lacey came out of the house, carrying a pot of water for the sweet peas.
"I can't think what has become of Sylvia," she said. "I've been looking for her, too. I certainly didn't see her go out."
"All right. If she left by the window I might as well be off," he rejoined. "I didn't know the broomstick worked by day. I thought it was only the other end."