“They can’t all go in one carriage.”
“No; no one but Odalite, her mother and the eldest Miss Grandiere will go in our carriage; the others will go by the street cars, under the escort of Roland Bayard. I take a crowd of ladies with me not only as witnesses to the broken marriage at All Faith Church—for the young men could have answered that purpose—but as the most fitting, proper and delicate support to my daughter. I take only one man, Roland Bayard, not only as the most important witness, who brought Anglesea’s Californian wife from San Francisco to St. Mary’s, but also as a proper escort for the young ladies in the street car. But you, Le, should, in delicacy, absent yourself.”
“At least, I will not press my company on you, uncle. But perhaps I may be there later. Don’t let anything discourage you, no matter how the case seems to be going. Wait for my coup,” said Le.
Mr. Force was drawing on his light overcoat in the hall, to which they had walked during this conversation, and he scarcely heard or heeded the youth’s last words, which seemed to be so significant.
They met Mrs. Force and Odalite at the front door.
“The girls have gone on in the cars before. Roland is with them. I told them to wait in the vestibule of the City Hall until we should join them,” said the elder lady.
Odalite said nothing. She was white and still, as she had been at the breakfast table.
It was pouring rain.
When the front door was opened Mr. Force and Leonidas both took large umbrellas from the hall rack and held them over the heads of the two ladies as they passed from the house to the carriage.
When the two latter had entered and taken their seats, Mr. Force followed them, and Le closed the door.