“No. He sounded—casual. As casual as—as casual as——” She made a little despairing gesture with her hand. “I can’t tell you how casual he sounded.”
“Well, then——”
“Well, then, but that’s it, Hal. Derry isn’t a bit a casual person, and here were you for the first time in three years—and here was I, and he knows how I loathe being left alone out here with the maids—and he sounded as though it were—nothing. Just nothing at all.”
“And is this honestly the mole-hill out of which you’ve built your mountain?”
“No—I don’t know; I can’t even explain it to myself—how could I explain it to you? It wasn’t anything tangible at first. Just a feeling of—of discomfort—something vague and not pleasant; I couldn’t even put my finger on it. I told myself that I was being silly and unreasonable—I did indeed. You mustn’t think that I enjoy this kind of thing. I hate it, I hate it.”
“But I’m so utterly at sea to account for this, my dear, and I want to help you. You’re tormenting yourself about something real if we could only put our finger on it. Something that Derry said or did that worried you; you can’t make me believe that you’ve manufactured all of this out of thin air! It’s too unlike you—why, ever since that first day I met you, a pale mite of a thing with great eyes and long braids, brave and proud and gentle in the midst of the rest of those young hoydens, I’ve found you exquisitely fair and adorably, adorably reasonable. No one’s ever been like you, Anne; you mustn’t wreck my world by showing me little clay feet to-night.”
“Trying to flatter me into being a good child? That’s dear of you, but oh, I’m beyond flattery. I’m making up for any past arrears of reason to-night, I promise you.”
“Well, then, let’s try to get to the bottom of it—hunt the good old subconscious into the open! Now what exactly was this famous telephone conversation, word for word?”
She turned her head restlessly.
“Oh, Hal, what does it matter? Very well—only I’ve told you once, you know. He said, ‘I’m awfully sorry, dear, but I won’t be able to get out this evening. Tell Hal that I’m sorry as the dickens, but that we can have lunch at the office to-morrow; one sharp. That’ll give him plenty of time to get off again on his globe-trotting.’ And I said, ‘But what time will you get out?’ He said, ‘Six-thirty to-morrow, as usual. I may bring Joe Carey along with me.’ I was so surprised that I almost lost my voice, Hal, and I said, ‘Why, Derry, not to-night?’ And he just laughed, and said, ‘No; I’ve been roped in on the darnedest party you ever heard of—got to run now, or I’d explain. I can’t possibly get out of it. You’ll be awfully amused when I tell you. It’s a good joke on me!’ I said, ‘But where are you going?’ And Derry said, ‘Lord knows! I’ve got to run, honestly, dear. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll call you up when it’s over, and let you in on the whole blooming thing. It’s too good to sleep on; wait till you hear! It may be late—will you be awake at twelve?’ And I said, ‘I’ll be awake at six if you don’t call up. Promise, Derry.’ And he said, ‘Promised! Not later than twelve. Give Hal my best—see you both to-morrow.’ And—he rang off.”