"Yes, I—know." The girl's voice was low, a little breathless.
"And that's why I need you so much. If anybody in the whole world can make me forget for a minute, you can. You will come?"
"Why, of course, I'll come, and be glad to. You know I will. And I'm so glad if I've helped—any!"
"You've helped more—than you'll ever know. But, come—look! I've got a dandy new game here." And Keith, very obviously to hide the shake in his voice and the emotion in his face, turned gayly to a little stand near him and picked up a square cardboard box.
Half an hour later, Dorothy Parkman, passing through the hall on her way to the outer door, was waylaid by Susan.
"Sh-h! Don't speak here, but come with me," she whispered, leading the way through the diningroom. In the kitchen she stopped and turned eagerly. "Well, did you tell him?" she demanded.
Miss Dorothy shook her head, mutely, despairingly.
"You mean he don't know yet that you're Dorothy Parkman?"
"I mean just that."
"But, child alive, he'll find out—he can't help finding out—now."