Boswell sprang up in his chair as if he were on a strong spring.
"Wants you to go and tell her—that he still lives?"
"Yes. It will be hard, but I will do it for him."
Boswell settled back in his seat.
"I thought he only meant her to know—when he could go himself," he said quietly.
"He made me promise."
Boswell leaned forward and drew the cup from the table, and in one long draught drank the cold, weak tea. When he spoke again the conversation was set in a different channel.
"I hardly know what I expected to find you, Miss Glenn," he said with his rare, sweet smile. "You evidently seemed more a child to Farwell than you do to me. That was natural. Now that we have become acquainted I hope you will accept my help and hospitality until your own plans are formed. I can make you very comfortable in my town home. I am sure I can place you in the best training school in the city; I have some influence there. But before you settle to your hard work you will let me play host, as Farwell would in my place? This would be a great pleasure to me."
What there was in the words and tone Priscilla could never tell, but at once the future seemed secure, and the present placed on a sound foundation. Every disturbing element was eliminated and the whole situation put upon a perfectly commonplace basis. By a quick transition the unreality was swept aside.
"Indeed, I will be glad to accept."