"Yes, yes!" Joan promised with a sob. "I'll hurry, Butch—"
"See you do, then!"
The boy swung about smartly and disappeared down the well of the stairway.
Joan closed the door, and leaned against it, panting. Suppose he had wanted to come in!...
For the moment, this was her sole coherent thought.
Then, rousing, she crept stealthily back to the darkened bedroom, gathered up her clothing with infinite precautions against noise, and returned to the sitting-room to dress in feverish haste....
There was an open taxicab waiting in front of the door. As she came out, Butch bent over and cranked the motor. Straightening up, he waved her curtly into the body of the car.
"Jump in and shut the door," he ordered briefly, climbing into the driver's seat.
"But—Butch—"
"Doncha hear me? Get in and shut that door. We got no time to waste chinnin' here."