All the softness in the woman turned to hardness.
“How many times,” she flamed, “must I tell you I was too angry to write or beg you to come, Jordan?... I’ve told you over and over.”
“And with all you say, I can’t understand it. Are you going to impart your precious past to Theodore?”
“No,” replied Molly, setting her lips.
Presently Morse laughed provokingly.
“How you women do count your chickens before they’re hatched! Where did you get the idea Theodore was going to ask you to marry him?”
“I’ll make him,” breathed Molly, with confidence.
“Well, go ahead,” bantered Morse. “All I ask for releasing you is that you’ll help me rid myself of my beautiful niece, Virginia, at the same time ridding yourself, my lady, and give me my boy when we find him.”
His tones in the first part of the speech were mocking, but Molly noted when he said “boy” his voice softened. She looked at him wonderingly. What a strange mixture of good and evil he was! When he got up to leave, she was not sorry. She watched him stride away with a deep sigh of relief.
She was still sitting in the summer house when Theodore King swung his motor through the gate and drew up before the porch. He jumped out, wiped his face, saw Molly, and smiled.