“I am glad,” Pamela said simply.
She rose and turned appealingly to Dare.
“Shall we go now?”
“If you are ready,” he said.
The matron held the door open.
“You are quite sure?” she asked, as she shook hands, and looked searchingly into the frightened blue eyes of this surprising visitor, “that you won’t have something before you leave?”
“Quite sure, thank you,” Pamela summoned a wintry smile to her aid. “I am sorry to have given so much trouble,” she added. “I won’t be so foolish again.”
The matron repudiated the suggestion of trouble, and inquired if she was to expect the visitor on the morrow. Pamela hesitated for a barely perceptible moment, during which Dare looked as though he would have suggested the wisdom of refraining from making a definite arrangement. He did not, however, speak; and Pamela answered reluctantly, after a pause:
“To-morrow... Yes, I will come to-morrow.”
Out in the open air again, driving bade to their hotel, Dare asked her why she had made the arrangement.