Miss Merriweather turned toward the house.
“I think I’ll go,” she said in strained tones.
She had almost reached the veranda when Theodore called her.
“Molly!” he shouted.
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell mother. I want to surprise her.”
“Very well,” and the woman went on again, trembling from the blow which had struck her in the face.
The two men, lolling under the trees, said but little more, and with burning heart and unsettled mind, Jordan Morse went back to his apartment.
He had scarcely settled himself before his telephone tinkled. Taking down the receiver, he said,
“Well?”