Billy gave a low cry.
“You mean—because I came?” she demanded.
“Why, yes, Miss—no—that is—” Pete stopped with an appealing glance at Bertram.
“Then it was—it was—on account of me,” choked Billy.
Pete looked still more distressed
“No, no!” he faltered. “It was only that he thought you wouldn't want him here now.”
“Want him here!” ejaculated Bertram.
“Want him here!” echoed Billy, with a sob.
“Pete, where is he?” As she asked the question she dropped the mirror knobs into her open bag, and reached for her coat and gloves—she had not removed her hat.
Pete gave the address.