“But you—”
“I still mean to make her my wife if she concludes it is for her happiness. This new development may help her to decide.”
“Why that’s great,” exclaimed Barnes. “Then we’re both back on our mark.”
“Yes,” answered Langdon, grimly. “And I’m going in now to telephone her.”
“And I,” concluded Barnes. “I guess I’ll go back to the house.”
“Good-day, Barnes.”
“Good-day, Langdon,” answered Barnes.
And turning abruptly Barnes swung off down the road at as fast a pace as he could make.
CHAPTER XXV
THE PURPLE RIM
Langdon had mentioned thus casually a turn in the affairs of Eleanor which to the girl herself marked a crisis. It is no small matter when one awakes to the realization that one does not understand oneself. And this is especially true when one’s life hitherto has been as simple as the rule of three. Suddenly to discover that one is complex—to face in a flash the mystifying X in life’s equations—is to grow from a girl to a woman in a minute.