“‘The Lucky Find’ wasn’t even a good gamble,” she declared.
John entered with the dress-suit case. Barnes extended his hand to the little old lady. He was a believer in abrupt departures. He disliked the inclined plane of inanities usually accompanying a farewell.
“Au revoir, Aunt Philomela,” he said simply.
The little old lady took his hand. Her fingers were trembling.
“You—you have been very kind,” she faltered.
“Good-by, Eleanor.”
“Good-by,” she said.
He turned, and John followed him to the Dutch door.
“I thought,” began John, “I’d just like to ask you once more about ‘The Lucky Find.’ You are still interested in it, sir?”
“Extremely.”