“You are a harum-scarum boy. I wonder why Lettie doesn’t come down. I know she is up.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Yes, I’ve heard her. Perhaps she is dressing. I must get off.”
“I’ll call her.”
“No—don’t bother her—she’d come if she wanted——”
But mother had called from the foot of the stairs.
“Lettie, Lettie—he’s going.”
“All right,” said Lettie, and in another minute she came downstairs. She was dressed in dark, severe stuff, and she was somewhat pale. She did not look at any of us, but turned her eyes aside.
“Good-bye,” she said to him, offering him her cheek. He kissed her, murmuring: “Good-bye—my love.”
He stood in the doorway a moment, looking at her with beseeching eyes. She kept her face half averted, and would not look at him, but stood pale and cold, biting her underlip. He turned sharply away with a motion of keen disappointment, set the engines of the car into action, mounted, and drove quickly away.
Lettie stood pale and inscrutable for some moments.