Hetty looked up quickly from her book. A look of dismay flickered in her eyes for an instant and then gave way to the calmness that had come to dwell in their depths of late. Her lips parted in the sudden impulse to cry out against the plan, but she checked the words. For a moment, her dark, questioning eyes studied the face of her benefactress; then, as if nothing had been revealed to her, she allowed her gaze to drift pensively out toward the sunset sea.
They were sitting on the broad verandah overlooking the Sound. The dusk of evening was beginning to steal over the earth. She laid her book aside.
"Will you telephone in to him after dinner, Hetty?" went on Sara, after a long period of silence.
Again Hetty started. This time a look of actual pain flashed in her eyes.
"Would not a note by post be more certain to find him in the—" she began hurriedly.
"I dislike writing notes," said Sara calmly. "Of course, dear, if you feel that you'd rather not telephone to him, I can—"
"I dare say I am finicky, Sara," apologised Hetty in quick contrition. "Of course, he is your brother. I should remem—"
"My brother-in-law, dear," said Sara, a trifle too literally.
"He will come often to your house," went on Hetty rapidly. "I must make the best of it."
"He is your friend, Hetty. He admires you."