“Your home is with your husband, young lady!” he said, severely.
“I know! I’m going—pretty soon.”
There wasn’t the slightest need or reason for staying another hour. She had been there for four weeks, and her mother was now well on the road to recovery. Al telephoned every day, first he asked about Claudine, whose illness he had taken terribly to heart, and then he always said—
“When are you coming home, old girl?”
And she always answered “In a day or so.”
“You know your old father likes nothing better than to have his girl at home,” Gilbert went on. “But you’re a married woman, and you have to think of your duty.”
“I do think of it. But not all the time.... I think I’ll run up and see if Mother’s dressed.”
She had started up the stairs, when the telephone rang, and she ran back to answer it. She was quite sure it would be Al; this was his regular hour.
His voice responded.
“Mrs. Stephens in?”