Elliott reflected for a moment, with some suspicion. “Thank you, I shall be delighted,” he accepted, formally, at last.
“At seven o’clock,” repeated Sevier, bowing once more, and passing on.
“Who was that man? I never saw him before. What were you talking about?” demanded Margaret, when they were out of earshot.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t exactly know,” Elliott replied, in a sort of abstracted excitement.
Margaret went to her own room to take off her hat, and Elliott turned into the big, darkened sitting-room, where he was confronted with the spectacle of the missionary seated beside the table with his head buried in his arms.
“What did that man want here?” Elliott demanded, hastily. “Why, what’s the matter with you?”
Laurie raised a face that was covered with perspiration, and haggard with some emotion. His mouth trembled, and he looked half-dazed.
“That man!” he moaned, vaguely. “Oh, that man!”
“Yes. What did he want?”
“What did he want?” repeated Laurie, clearly incapable of coherent thought. “Oh, heavens! what did he not want?”