“I think she must have gotten a telegram at the station,” said Polly Cresap. “She’d been out riding, and when she came in she was in quite a flutter, and told us she had to go home immediately. I really didn’t understand just who was sick. We’re to send her things after her. You didn’t see her at Sandywood Station, did you, Tom? She must have taken the same train you came in on.”
“No,” returned Fessenden, truthfully enough. “She’s rather a headlong sort, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But, poor girl, she has a good deal on her mind! You know, before this disgraceful affair of Charlie Danton’s with——”
“Polly!” said her husband warningly.
“I don’t care, Pinck. You know everybody says so.”
“But nobody knows anything, my dear.”
“At any rate,” she rattled on, “before this affair, Madge was quite fond of Charlie Danton, and now I believe she’s eating her heart out.”
“Remember, Fessenden has just been up to Baltimore to meet Danton,” cautioned Cresap. “How do you know it wasn’t about this very thing?”
“Oh, goodness, Tom! Am I rushing in where angels fear to tread?”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “Danton didn’t mention the matter at all.”