"I am ready now," she said quickly. "I am perfectly strong."
Alma turned to Howard.
"Really, Mr. Hester, Fate must have directed us here. Edith owes a great part of her recovery to Mr. Holt. If he were not such a Godly man, I would believe he had employed magic!"
A quick frown darkened Howard's countenance, and he puffed his cigar in short, jerky puffs. Alma did not realize how she had heaped coals upon fire.
When Edith and Howard were again alone, Mr. Holt appeared. When Edith introduced them, she noticed her husband was barely polite. He vouchsafed no pleasantry whatever, which was entirely contrary to his usual, jovial way of meeting strangers. Mr. Holt, seemingly, did not notice any coldness, and directed his conversation with his accustomed earnestness.
"Well, Mrs. Hester, I will be leaving Boonville tomorrow," he said finally.
Howard read disappointment in his wife's face.
"O, I am sorry to hear that," replied Edith, with more fervor than Howard thought necessary. "I—we will all miss you, more than you guess."
Mr. Holt regarded her with deep concern.
With no excuse whatever, Howard left them, and entered the sun parlor nearby.