“But—you must. She would never forgive you.”
She looked as though about to call, but he checked her.
“I must tell you first my plan. If it’s possible to get a wire through to the boy, I shall do it. If, in the meanwhile, you yourself hear anything from him, you must let me know at once. I’ll leave my address.” He took a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
“You are so very kind,” she murmured, with a break in her voice.
“I shall write your father every day,” he went on, “so perhaps he will not ask many questions.”
“I will read the letters to him myself,” she said.
He caught his breath. It was a commonplace enough remark but he grasped at it like a compliment.
“Thank you,” he answered simply.
Certainly that in itself was a commonplace enough reply, and yet it turned her cheeks scarlet.
When he spoke again it was very deliberately, as though the words really had some profound meaning.