“We must go now, Adeline.”
She rose, evidently torn by a desire to be easy and complaisant and a disgruntled lack of satisfaction in the interview.
“Very well,” she said, “I’m sure I shall not be able to rest for a second until my daughter is safe and with me once more.”
They were courteous to the little outbreak of melodrama but not too responsive.
Helen and Gage accompanied their visitors to the door and saw them walk down the street, the sunlight bringing out the shiny seams in Mr. Thorstad’s coat, beating unmercifully on the defiant little daisies in his wife’s hat.
Helen turned to her husband.
“Why didn’t I hear of this?”
“I didn’t know you’d be interested. You’ve been so interested in national affairs I couldn’t suppose you had time for little local troubles.”
She set her lips in anger.
“You gain nothing by viciousness, Gage. Where is that girl?”