Eileen took it quickly. “Um, not a bit of it. I am just fulfilling the desire of my heart. So you may take it that I am proving your theory if you like.”
“At least you are proving my exception,” said Eveley, with a smile.
“What is the exception?” Eileen questioned eagerly. “It seems to get all the proving, doesn’t it?”
“It used to,” said Eveley gravely. “But I have lost faith in it for myself. It worked for everybody else, but it failed for me. Now let’s talk of something else.”
They were in the midst of a merry game with the children, when the bell rang, and Eveley was called to the door, to look into the face of Amos Hiltze.
“You have found Marie,” she cried out at once.
“Yes. She is at the ranch in the mountains where we found her first. She is in trouble, and sick. I told her I would come for you, but I suppose you can not leave yet?”
“Not leave—when Marie is sick and wants me? Wait until I get my wraps. Shall we go in my car?”
“Yes, please. I was up at the Cote for you, and Mrs. Severs said you were here. I let the taxi go.”
Eveley’s face was alight with joy, and her heart sang with happiness. Marie had been sick—it had not been cold neglect that kept her away and silent. And she had sent for Eveley.