“No, Miss Varney, I can’t——”
“Oh, yes, you can,” cried Edith, who would hear no denial as she ran swiftly toward the door.
CHAPTER IV
MISS MITFORD’S INTERVENTION
The Captain stared after her departing figure; he listened to her footfalls on the stair, and then came to an instant resolution. He would take advantage of her opportune withdrawal. He turned back to the table, seized his hat, and started for the door, only to come face to face with another charming young woman, who stood breathless before him to his great and ill-concealed annoyance. Yet the newcomer was pretty enough and young enough and sweet enough to give any man pause for the sheer pleasure of looking at her, to say nothing of speaking to her.
The resources of an ancient wardrobe, that looked as though it had belonged to her great-grandmother, had been called upon for a costume which was quaint and old-fashioned and altogether lovely. She was evidently much younger than Edith Varney, perhaps just sixteen, Wilfred’s age. With outstretched arms she barred the door completely, and Thorne, of course, came to an abrupt stop.
“Oh, good-evening,” she panted, as soon as she found speech; she had run without stopping from her house across the street.
“Good-evening, Miss Mitford,” he answered, stepping to one side to let her pass, but through calculation or chance she kept her position at the door.
“How lucky this is!” she continued. “You are the very person I wanted to see. Let’s sit down and then I’ll tell you all about it. Goodness me, I am all out of breath just running over from our house.”
Thorne did not accept her invitation, but stood looking at her. An idea came to him.
“Miss Mitford,” he said at last, stepping toward her, “will you do something for me?”