“You have it now?”
“No.”
“Ah, you have passed it on to an accomplice, perhaps.” Mockingly. Miss Gerald drew up her proud figure. “And this is the man,” she said, “who talks to me of love. Love!” With a low musical laugh. “The tenderest passion! The purest one! Dare you repeat now,” with crushing triumph in the violet eyes, “what you said a moment ago.”
“I love you,” said Bob, with burning glance. “I shall carry your image with me to the grave.”
This slightly staggered even one of her regal young bearing. His tone was that of the master once more. No criminal in his look when he said that! Miss Gerald’s slender figure swayed in the least; her breast stirred. Bob put his handsome reckless face nearer. That was the way he answered her challenge. He wore his fighting look.
“I love you,” he said. “And that,” he flung at her, “is still the answer I dare make.”
Miss Gerald did not reply to this bold defiance at once. How she would have answered, Bob never knew, for at that moment the hammer-thrower came up and the girl at once turned to him, looking slightly paler as she did so. Both then walked away, Bob’s somber gaze following them. But he was not long permitted even this mournful privilege.
“Phone, sir,” said a voice at his elbow. “Mr. Robert Bennett is urgently wanted on the phone.”
“All right.” And Bob followed the servant. “What now?” he asked himself wearily.
The voice at the other end was Dan’s. Fortunately the telephone was isolated and no one in the house could catch what Bob said. The good old commodore frantically wished to know all about Gee-gee and Gid-up. He had heard that Bob had got out of the sanatorium and gone back to Mrs. Ralston’s. Dan’s desire for information was greater even than his resentment toward Bob, as he had stooped to calling him up.