“No,” said Raoul, gravely (he never had a sense of humor); “I am confident he is not.”
“How do you know?”
“I have had a telegram from Mrs. Judge Pennoyer.”
“Is she his confidante?”
“She says that he has suddenly decided to await your return in Knoxville.”
“Await my return?”
“Certainly—yours and Miss Jeanie’s. I conclude the Judge this morning wired him an answer that it was not Jeanie who was getting married.”
I gasped. “Then it was not you, after all, he was chasing?”
“Why, of course not.”
“Why did you run away so?”