“I’ve a hundred, and they’re all futile and foolish. I thought of running away. That seems about the only sane idea I have had.”
“Running away? To where?” he asked.
“To Scotland. To join Gordon.”
Bobbie jumped up, a very perturbed young man.
“You mustn’t do that!” he cried. “Whatever you do, don’t do that, Diana! In the first place, none of us knows where he is; in the second place—well ... I shouldn’t do it.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Why not? I could tell Gordon the whole truth, and I’m sure he would be nice and sympathetic. I feel very sure of Gordon in a great crisis like this—it is a very dear feeling to have.” She smiled a little pathetically.
“Suppose Dempsi followed you—and he certainly would,” urged Bobbie. “Suppose he found that you’d deceived him, and came upon you on the moors with Gordon?”
The smile deepened; into her eyes came a faraway look.
“That’s an idea. Gordon would have his gun on the moors,” she said. “Hush! Here he comes.”