"We're unwilling to leave you in such uncertainty," he said lamely.
Sylvia's eyes rested on his.
"Tell Uncle Calvin"—she paused, for her throat filled—"no," she added with difficulty, "just go, please."
"Sylvia, I beg of you," Miss Lacey came forward, face and voice perturbed, and attempted to take her niece's hand.
Sylvia fell back a step. "You said everything a few minutes ago, Aunt Martha. Nothing could make any difference now. Good-by. Go, or else I must."
"Why, it's impossible, it's unheard of!" Tears sprang to Miss Martha's eyes, but Dunham took her arm and led her to the door, and while a sob of anxiety struggled in her breast he hurried her to the elevator and out upon the street, and at once hailed an approaching car.
"Do you wish to go right to the station, or to do errands?" he asked.
"Oh, errands!" exclaimed Miss Lacey wildly. "Who could think of errands!"
"Well, this car will take you to the station. I have some business to attend to, but shall probably catch the same train you do."
The car stopped. Dunham helped his bewildered companion to enter, and stepping back to the sidewalk, walked half a block in the opposite direction with business-like haste. Then he turned on his heel, observed that no stoppage in the street had detained Miss Martha's noisy conveyance, and striding back to the hotel, he reëntered the dingy elevator.