He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third person, particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate.
“Gertie,” he observed, “your—er—friend is leaving us at the wrong time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. Really, Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense. Miss Dott and I are finding the social whirl a bit tiresome; you will escape that, at least.”
Captain Dan appeared at the entrance to the drawing-room.
“I say, Hungerford! Percy!” he hailed impatiently.
Mr. Hungerford did not seem to hear him. He was regarding Miss Dott with anxious concern.
“Really, Gertrude,” he said, “I shouldn't stand by that open door, if I were you. You have a slight cold and for—all our sakes—you must be careful. Step inside, I beg of you.”
His begging was so tender, so solicitous, so intimate. John Doane's fists clenched.
“Hi!” It was the cabman calling from the street. “Hi! we've only got twelve minutes to catch that train.”
John turned, involuntarily, toward the door. Gertrude, startled by the cabman's voice and aware of the need of haste, stepped to one side. Cousin Percy chose to put his own interpretation upon her movement.
“Thank you, Gertrude,” he said feelingly. “That's better; you will be out of the draft there. Thank you.”