Whittaker cut her off.
Stacey scribbled a check, and Ethel drank her coffee.
“He won’t be back, I think,” she observed calmly. “Not for a long time. They’ll find him on some floor after a while. So . . .” She turned to Stacey.
“So we’ll leave you,” he concluded for her. “Thanks awfully for the car, Whittaker. And remember what the dinner check comes to. I’ll split it with you later.”
“You will not! My surprise and joy at your behavior are reward enough. Come on! We’ll see you off.”
And presently, when Ethel had put on her wraps, and the car had been brought around, and the two suitcases put in, Whittaker and Minnie stood on the verandah to see the lovers depart.
“If I knew where Ames was I’d get his shoe and throw after you,” called Whittaker, as Stacey started the car.
But there was no sign of Ames.
CHAPTER XVI
The chill silent night was a relief to Stacey, and perhaps to the girl, after the heated promiscuity of the road-house. An aloof wintry moon shone coldly on the white fields and made the frozen ponds glitter.