Wallace looked down. "Well,—it isn't my affair," he said slowly.
Mrs. Colter bustled in, a package swinging from one hand by a holder.
"Oh, excuse me!" she begged, coming short.
Clare ran to her in a panic. "Oh, go! Go!" she ordered almost fiercely. "Go home! Don't wait! Hurry!" Then as Mrs. Colter, scared and bewildered, attempted to pass, "No! Go 'round! Go 'round!"
"Yes," faltered the other, dropping and picking up her bundle as Clare shoved her hallward; "yes." She fled.
"Close the door!" cried Clare. And as Wallace obeyed, she again went to stand against the panels of the double door. She seemed in a very fever of anxiety. "Please go now, Wallace," she begged. "Please! I'm much obliged to you for coming. It was kind. But if you'll go——" Her voice broke hysterically.
He glanced at Balcome, and the elder man nodded in acquiescence. "We'll go," said Wallace. "I'm glad to have seen you again." He moved away, and Balcome went with him. "But I hoped I could do something for you——"
"There's nothing,"—eagerly. "If you'll just go."
"Well, good-by, then."
"Good-by. Good-by, Mr. Balcome."
"Good-by," grumbled Balcome.