“The house looks quiet,” she said at last. “Let us go in and see if we can find something to eat. I am nearly starved.”
They crossed the lawn and went up the veranda steps. In the hall they met the butler, hanging about aimlessly.
“Mrs. Lumbard has been neglected, Stebbins,” said Hugh. “She hadn’t a chance to eat much of anything. See if you can’t get some sandwiches and grapejuice for us. Has everybody gone to bed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, when you’ve set out the stuff you go, too. You can lock up and I’ll see to putting out the lights.”
The two entered the big dim dining-room and sat down side by side at the table. For all Adèle’s protestations of hunger, she only played with a sandwich and sipped the grapejuice. So far everything had gone exactly to suit her. Miss Frink, Leonard Grimshaw, and Mr. Ogden had all effaced themselves.
She had Hugh to herself in the high-ceiled old room, and her heart was still exulting in the incense that had been burned before her all the evening, incense that was valuable because Hugh had seen it burning.
Time was flying. This was her great opportunity.
“What are you planning to do with your life, Hugh?” she asked suddenly.
“I mean to keep on with the law work on the side while I go into Miss Frink’s store. Don’t you think you ought to go to bed, Ally? I know you must be very tired.”