Morton looked at Margaret keenly. This was an unusual woman, he thought, as he noted the broad forehead and firm yet kindly mouth. He would not forget her kindness to the orphaned girl.
During the meal Margaret kept stealing glances at Helène. She could scarcely explain the nature of the change she now saw. This erstwhile quiet, simple maiden might be a princess, so queenly did she bear herself and so beautiful was she in her animation. “What a difference a man makes!” she thought bitterly, “especially if he is the right man,” she added as an afterthought.
The luncheon over Morton remembered that he ought to have been on his way to Tarrytown.
“Will you excuse me for a moment, ladies? My mother expects me home, and I ought to send word to her that I will be delayed. Have you any engagement for this evening, Miss Barton?”
“No, Mr. Morton,” Helène replied, “but I must not keep you from your family and friends.”
“Miss Barton, I have been in great good luck to-day, and I should like to take every advantage of it. Shall we say dinner at seven and the theatre after? Help me, Miss Fisher, won’t you?”
Morton was longing to be alone with Helène, and as he did not quite understand the relationship which existed between the two girls, he put the question hoping that she would take the initiative. He was determined not to part from Helène until he had had an opportunity to hear her whole story from her own lips.
Margaret’s practical nature saw more than the surface of things showed, and she had seen sufficient to know that she was de trop—to the man, at any rate.
“Helène, dear,” she said, “you have had enough of me for one day. Make your plans without considering me. I expect Mr. Van Dusen this evening, so that I cannot avail myself of Mr. Morton’s kind invitation. You go. I am sure you and he must have a great deal to talk about. Mr. Morton, let me thank you for including me in your invitation.”
Helène seemed somewhat uneasy. Before, however, she could reply to Margaret’s suggestion, she heard Morton say: