She came nearer, seeking the truth in his warning eyes, carrying a brave front before the maids, but with fear in her heart, because she and her lover had eaten of the forbidden fruit, and now they were as gods, knowing good and evil.
“Mr. Dacre!” she repeated. “I suppose Mary Van Ralten told him what I said. But I don’t quite understand. Why should I hurry my departure?”
Nothing in this that anyone might hear and deem significant. Power laughed, as though her air of slight alarm had amused him.
“Come into the veranda,” he said. “You are not afraid of the morning air, and it is not on my conscience that I have robbed you of an hour’s sleep, since you were up and around before I arrived.”
When they were alone, though shut off from inquisitive ears by wire-screen doors only, he said, in a low voice:
“Don’t say anything that will cause comment, but your father arrived at the Ocean House soon after midnight, and means to be here about nine o’clock. Our train leaves at seven. Will you use your own carriage, or shall I send a cab in half an hour? You will be ready, of course?”
Nancy was not of that neurotic type of womankind which screams or faints in a crisis. “Y-yes,” she murmured. “In less time, if you wish.”
“No need to rush things,” he said coolly. “He is not to be called till eight. I heard him give the order.”
“You heard him!”
“Yes. Thanks to Dacre, when he arrived I was sitting in the veranda, well hidden, as it happened; so I planned to reach you this morning with a couple of hours in hand.”