"Yes. I couldn't get anything definite out of her, but she had a beautiful ring on her finger. She wants Susan and me to go to the opera with her to-night. Will that be all right?"
Jones gazed abstractedly at the rug. Whenever a problem bothered him he seemed to find the solution in the delicate patterns of the Persian rugs. Finally he nodded. "I see no reason why you should not go. Only, watch out."
"Jones, there is one thing that will make me brave and happy. Will you tell me if you are in direct communication with my father?"
"Yes, Miss Florence," he answered promptly. "But do not breathe this to a single soul, neither Susan nor Norton."
"I promise that. But, ah! hasten the day when he can come to me without fear."
"That is my wish also."
"You need not call me miss. Why should you?"
"It might not be wise to have any one hear me call you thus familiarly," he objected gravely.
"Please yourself about that. Now I must telephone Jim."
"Jim?" the butler murmured.