“Now enjoy yourself, dear,” she whispered. “Have a nice ride and don’t worry about me. If he—if our encumbrance bores me too much I shall—well, I shall plead a headache and leave him to his own devices. Besides, he isn’t so very dreadful, is he?”
Caroline shook her head. “No,” she answered, “he is a good man. I understand him better than I did and—yes, I like him better, too.”
“Oh!... Indeed! Well, good-by, dear. Good-by.”
The yellow car roared as the chauffeur cranked it, then moved off up the crowded avenue. Mrs. Dunn watched it until it was out of sight. Her brows were drawn together, and she seemed puzzled and just a bit disconcerted. However, when she returned to the drawing-room, her gracious smile had returned, and her bland condescension was again in evidence.
Captain Elisha had been standing by the window. She begged him to be seated. He thanked her, but looked dubiously at the Louis XVI chair indicated. She noticed the look.
“Suppose we go into the library,” she said. “It is much less formal. And there is a fire—for us old folks,” with a slight accent on the word.
The library was more homelike. Not as many books as at the Warrens’, but a great deal of gilt in the bindings and much carving on the cases. The fire was cheery, and the pair sat down before it in big easy chairs. Mrs. Dunn looked intently at the glowing coals.
Captain Elisha cleared his throat. Mrs. Dunn leaned forward expectantly. The captain coughed and sank back in his chair.
“Yes?” purred the lady. “You were about to say?”
“Me? Oh, no, I didn’t say anything.”