“Good-night, Donald,” Alice said, as she left the room. “I hope you and Edith will come to some sort of an agreement. Remember Bobbie.”
Left alone, Donald went slowly over to the chair in which he had been sitting, and, stooping, gathered up Bobbie’s little shoes and stockings, and placed them gently within the bedroom. Then he began to pace endlessly up and down the floor.
CHAPTER XIX
On the following morning Donald Rogers determined to go down to Mr. Brennan’s office and have a talk with him. As the executor of West’s estate, as well as Mrs. Rogers’ attorney, he felt that the lawyer might be able to suggest a basis for an understanding of some sort between Edith and himself. Bobbie he took to his own office and left in the care of his draughtsman. The child was delighted, and spent the morning drawing ships and dogs and many other things upon a great sheet of cardboard with which the latter provided him.
Mr. Brennan was luckily in. Perhaps he suspected the object of Donald’s visit—at any rate he received him at once, dismissed the stenographer who had been taking notes at his side, and waved his caller to a chair.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Rogers,” he began. “How is Mrs. Rogers? I trust she is enjoying her stay at the seashore.”
“Mrs. Rogers is very well.” Donald nervously began to light a cigar, fumbling with the matches awkwardly in his agitation. Now that he was with Mr. Brennan, he felt at a loss to know how to begin.
“Let me see. You are at New London, are you not? Beautiful old place. I spent a summer there, once. You go down for the week ends, I presume.”