"Oh yes; I wrote to him from New York."
"You waited till then? Wasn't that rather hard?"
"Are you finding fault with me?" she murmured, turning her head so that her lips could reach and rest against his bending face.
"Fault!" said Lucian, taking her in his arms.
Adolfo passed out of their memory.
CHAPTER XXVII.
"I cannot let you go alone," said Evert Winthrop, decidedly.
He was speaking to Margaret. They were in the East Angels drawing-room, Betty Carew hovering near, and agreeing with perfect sincerity now with one, now with the other, in the remarkable way which was part of the breadth of her sympathy.
"But it's not in the least necessary for you to go," Margaret repeated. "Even if the storm should break before I reach the river, the carriage can be made perfectly tight."