"Tell mother that I'm going to see a friend and that I'll be home before it is late," he said. "Tell her there's no need to worry about me."
"Just a minute and I'll call her," Mrs. Sprockett's husband suggested.
"No, just give her my message," he said, apprehensive of the probable consequences of telling his mother that it was Consuello he was going to meet.
As the cab started away from the curb he turned to Betty with the question that, in his mind, had been begging for an answer from the moment he recognized her.
"How is she?" he asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.
"She is very brave," Betty said, earnestly.
"Perhaps I should not ask you this, but has she seen—Gibson?" So much, he felt, depended on her reply to this question. If Consuello had already talked with Gibson and Betty divined that she wanted to see him, then——
"Perhaps I should not tell you, but—she has talked to him. That's as much as I will tell you. The rest must come from her," Betty replied.
She had talked with Gibson and yet she wanted to see him! Or, could Betty be mistaken? Had she interpreted Consuello's mood erroneously in coming for him?
"Forgive me for my doubtfulness," he said, "but are you certain that she wants to see me?"