"Allan Baird," she answered.
"Oh. You explained to him, of course, about Lake—"
"Yes, he understands," she said. "He won't come here after this—"
Roger looked at her sharply, wondering just what she meant. He hesitated. No, he would wait.
"Good-night," he said, and went upstairs.
CHAPTER XXXVI
On the morrow Bruce did not grow better. If anything, the child grew worse. But by the next morning the crisis had passed. In the house the tension relaxed, and Roger suddenly felt so weak that he went to see his own physician. They had a long and serious talk. Later he went to his office, but he gave little heed to his work. Sitting there at his desk, he stared through the window far out over the city. A plan was forming in his mind.
At home that night, at dinner, he kept watching Deborah, who looked tired and pale and rather relaxed. And as soon as she was out of the house he telephoned Allan to come at once.
"It's something which can't wait," he urged.