"I am not afraid, Charlie. Of course, I am terribly unstrung and unhappy over poor little Rosabel,—but I am not afraid of HIM. He will not come here. Tell me again just what he is accused of doing."
The car had drawn up under the porte-cochere. Webster repeated the story he had had from Gilfillan. She sat perfectly still during the lengthy recital.
"And to think—" she began, but checked the words in time. "Oh, what fools we have been, Charlie!"
"Anyhow," said Charlie, divining her thoughts, "there's a good deal to be said for that saying, 'All's well that ends well.' I've been thinking what a difference there is in men. Now, take for instance David Strong. Just stack him up alongside this slick, smooth-talking—"
"Oh, Charlie!" It was almost a wail.
He took her hand in one of his and gently patted it with the other.
"I guess you'd kind of like to see Davy for a change, wouldn't you, Alix?"
She caught her breath sharply, as if in pain.
"Now, there's a feller," went on Charlie after a moment, "that's all wool and a yard wide. He—"
"Good night, Charlie," she broke in abruptly. "Thank you for coming to meet me. You—you are the best, the dearest man in the world. I—"