“He’s the man I love,” she said, simply.
And she was honest now, wholly in earnest; the childish artfulness had gone, and she spoke quietly.
“He’s coming to-night,” she went on. “And if anything—goes wrong, he’ll go away, and never come back. And something’s very likely to go wrong, Jimmy.”
“You’ll have to remember that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Ross.
She did not resent his blunt manner now.
“In the house where we’re going,” she explained, “there’s some one Gayle must not see—no matter what happens. I’ll talk to—this person first; I’ll try to persuade him. But if I can’t—That’s what I want you to do for me. I want you to be sure to see that—this person doesn’t leave that house to-night.”
“And how am I to do that?”
She was silent for a moment.
“I don’t care,” she said then. “It doesn’t matter how it’s done.”
“It does matter—to me.”