“May I go, too?” she asked of them both.
“Yes, ma’am!” said Edwards, getting up. “I’d like that.”
He made his adieux clumsily, with too much formality, and Stacey accompanied him down the hall to the door.
“Well,” Edwards remarked, “that’s something, I suppose,—thanks to Mrs. Blair. Precious little help you were, though, Carroll!”
“Oh, yes,” said Stacey cheerfully, “I messed things up properly. But then, look at you! What the devil do you mean by behaving like a resentful commoner at a court function? Go on home, you sulky snob!” he added with a laugh, and pushed his friend out of the door.
Then he returned to the library.
His father and Catherine were sitting there in silence, she gazing away with dark abstracted eyes, he frowning slightly and staring down at a closed magazine on which he tapped nervously with his fingers. He looked up and turned to Catherine as Stacey entered.
“You a member of this conspiracy, Catherine?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Stacey exclaimed promptly, “she wasn’t! Didn’t know a thing about it. It was all my damfoolishness.”
“I see,” said Mr. Carroll, and rose. “I’ll go to bed, I think. Good night.”