"I may as well. I may be of use." He looked at her for a moment steadily, then asked: "Do you know of any reason why I should not go?"
Instantly the startled look vanished; a smile lit up the pale face, wanly.
"Of course not," she cried. "You are interested in dreadful happenings—I had forgotten that. I suppose you are really quite delighted; and instead of my craving pardon I should be expecting praise, for putting you in the way of this one."
She laughed lightly; a smile flitted across his keen face, as he rose and said:
"What has happened may make a change in the affairs of Allan Morris."
She came to him and laid a hand upon his arm. Her coolness won his admiration.
"I beg of you to forget all that I told you yesterday," she said. "I had been brooding so long that I had begun to fancy all sorts of impossible things. I see very clearly now that this man Hume could have had nothing of any consequence to do with Mr. Morris. It was a romance—a rather foolish fancy, and a very wild one."
There was sweet seriousness in her manner; and the lurking smile still hovered about her lips. It was as though a return to reason had driven away the fears of the day before—the alarmed girl had given place to a sensible woman.