"I am sorry, very sorry," said the butler, torn between the desire to comfort her and the law that he had laid down for himself. "It is very gloomy to-day, and perhaps we are a little depressed by it. I am sorry."
"Oh, I realize, Jones, that all this unending mystery and secrecy have a set purpose at back. Only, it does just seem as if I should go mad sometimes with waiting and wondering."
"And if the truth must be told, it is the same with me. We have to wait for them to strike. Shall I get you something to read? I am going down to the drug store and they have a circulating library."
"Get me anything you please. But I'd feel better with a little sunshine."
"That's universal," replied Jones, going into the hall for his hat.
Had the telephone rung again at that moment it is quite probable that the day would have come to a close as the day before had, monotonously. But the ring came five minutes after Jones had left the house.
"Is this the Hargreave place?"
"Yes," said Florence. "Who is it?"
"This is Miss Hargreave talking?"
"Yes."