"I have only an hour," apologized Donaldson, "I 'm afraid I 'm hardly in a condition to go into the house."
"You are n't coming back here?"
"Yes."
Once again Arsdale found his protest choked at his lips. What was the use of talking to a man in such a stubborn mood as this? He led the way to the house.
In the hall, he shouted up the stairs,
"Elaine, Peter Donaldson is here!"
The girl stepped from the library clutching the silken curtains. She hesitated a moment at sight of him and then faltering forward, offered her hand.
"I 'm glad you came back," she said.
His fingers closed over her own with a decisiveness that made her catch her breath. As the woman in the mirror had divined, there was nothing more left for her to do.
"But the old chump is going again in an hour," choked Arsdale, "he 's taken a job shovelling dirt."