Remembering the night he had spent in it himself, Lang wondered that this lie did not freeze on his lips. He hurried past it.
“I hope you slept last night—this morning, rather.”
“I’m afraid, not very much; neither did you.” An uncontrollable smile curved her lips, and then she laughed outright. “I looked out the window before daylight and saw you.”
Lang felt his cheeks reddening.
“I hated to leave you all alone,” he stammered. “I wasn’t much of a sentinel, though—went to sleep on my post.”
“It was awfully foolish of you, and—and simply wonderful,” she said, no longer laughing. “I nearly cried. I went to make hot coffee for you, and when I came back you were gone.”
“I wish I’d known. I drove to Pass Christian and slept nearly all day. I’m a dormouse when I get a chance. Enough of that. I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Some news? Something about father?”
“No news. About your father, in a way. It’s a romantic tale that Carroll has just told me. It’ll amuse you at least. You’re going out to dinner with me and I’ll tell you while we eat.”
“Do tell me now,” she pleaded.