There was the same hesitation in Kellogg's tone.
"You're looking very well," she murmured.
"Feeling fine, thanks," he returned awkwardly.
Rosalind believed she was beginning to see a light. Here were the surface indications of heart-trouble, either on one side or the other, possibly on both. Yet on the many occasions that Polly had spoken of Kellogg, never once, either in word or manner, had she betrayed the existence of an affair of sentiment.
"Polly is deeper than she seems," Rosalind told herself.
It was Mrs. Witherbee who broke the tension.
"You must come straight up to the house and meet the others," she commanded. "We've all been expecting you, and we're delighted to have you. I told your uncle that we'd probably keep you here most of the time, unless it's absolutely necessary for you to stay at your own place."
"It isn't," he said quickly.
"I knew it wasn't," declared the hostess with emphasis. "I told Mr. Davidson the servants could do without you. So you may as well have a good time with us. Come along."
She linked an arm within that of the stammering guest and led him toward the house. Some of the others followed.