Boswell gave an uncomfortable laugh. In the light of nearby disillusionment his practical joke looked mean and ghastly.
Then, with another abrupt change of thought, Priscilla brought Boswell again at bay.
"Before I go into training," she said, "I must go and see Master Farwell's friend—his old friend, you know. I feel very guilty and ungrateful, but it has all been so strange and bewildering, I have seemed dead and done for and then born again, I could not help myself; but I can now. Please tell me all about her, Mr. Boswell, and how I can find her."
Boswell dropped the pencil upon the mahogany desk and looked blankly at Priscilla.
"Let us sit by the fire," he said presently, "I am cold and—tired. Turn down the lights."
They took their positions near the hearth: the dwarf in his low, deep leather chair with its wide "wings" that hid him so mercifully; Priscilla in the small rocker that from the first had seemed to meet every curve and line of her long, young body with restful welcome.
"And now," Priscilla urged, "please tell me. I feel, to-night, like myself once more. I am adjusted to the new life, I hope, ready to do my part."
When John Boswell cast aside his whimsical phase he was a very simple and direct man. He, too, was becoming adjusted to Priscilla's presence in his home and her rightful demands upon him.
"Yes, I will tell you," he said slowly, wearily.
"Perhaps you are too tired to-night, Mr. Boswell? To-morrow will do."