"You'd just as well spend the night," urged Mrs. Treadwell stubbornly. "He need never know of it."
"But I'd know of it—that's the great thing—and I'd never forget it."
Rising unsteadily from the box, she stood with the ends of her purple shawl clutched tightly over her flat bosom. "Then you'll wait just a minute. I've got something downstairs I'd like to give you," she said.
"Why, of course, but won't you let me fetch it?"
"You'd never find it," she answered mysteriously, and hurried out while he held the door open to light her down the dark staircase.
When her tread was heard at last on the landing below, Susan glanced at the books that were still left on the shelves. "I'll pack the rest for you to-morrow, Oliver, and your clothes, too. Have you any money?"
"A little left from selling my watch in New York. My clothes don't amount to much. I've got them all in that bag, but I'll leave my books in your charge until I can find a place for them."
"I'll take good care of them. O Oliver!" her face grew disturbed. "I forgot all about my promise to Virginia that I'd bring you to see her to-night."
"Well, I've no time to meet girls now, of course, but that doesn't mean that I'm not awfully knocked up about it."
"I hate so to disappoint her."