Once again their eyes met—she coloured and looked away.
“Play the game, Mr. Harleston,” she reminded, “play the game! And thank you for a delicious dinner and a charming evening—and don’t forget you’ve an appointment at ten.”
“I had forgotten!” he laughed, drawing out his watch.
It was ten minutes of the hour.
“Take me to the F Street elevator and then hurry on,” said she.
“And you will do nothing—and go nowhere until tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’ll promise to remain here until—”
“I come for you in the morning?” he broke in.
“If I’m not abducted in the interval, I’ll wait,” and stepped into the car. “Good-night, Mr. Harleston!” she smiled—and the car shot upward.
“Hum!” muttered Harleston as he turned for his coat and hat. “I may be a fool, but I’ll risk it—and I think I’m not.”