"Don't interrupt, Minerva! I say that I left this fellow Sasnett imploring her, paying her undue compliments with this charitable end in view, while Acres waited outside the door of the directors' room. This poor adventurer whom you behold bound at present to your chariot wheel, is none other than 'Bob,'" he concluded, smiling up at her with whimsical audacity.
"But what are you doing out here at this hour? It's almost tea time," she exclaimed with well-simulated innocence.
"Waiting for you," he replied, accusing her innocence with a stare so bold that she blushed.
"That was kind of you. Get in!" she said, thrusting the door of the car open and making room for him on the seat.
"It is not my idea to return to the er—goddess-ridden metropolis of Jordantown as the obvious captive of Minerva," he replied, backing off. "I ventured to hope that you would descend and walk back with me," he explained.
"I can't," she objected, "I always try to be home when father comes, and it's already late."
"Old boy won't be in for another hour. He's having his wheat thrashed; met one of the men taking more sacks out just now. He says it will be nine o'clock before they finish."
Still she hesitated, looking down at him.
"Come!" he insisted, "I've something very important to tell you."
"Are you sure it's important?" she asked waveringly.