“I'm sure he's all right, asserted Sara firmly.
“Although I don't understand why such a good man at his job should be practicing in a little one-horse place like Monkshaven,” retorted Geoffrey maliciously.
“Probably he went there on account of his wife's health,” suggested Elisabeth. “He says she is an invalid.”
“Oh, well”—Geoffrey yielded unwillingly—“I suppose you'll go, Sara. But if the experiment isn't a success you must come back to us at once. Is that a bargain?”
Sara hesitated.
“Promise,” commanded Geoffrey. “Or”—firmly—“I'm hanged if we let you go at all.”
“Very well,” agreed Sara meekly. “I'll promise.”
“I hope the experiment will be an utter failure,” observed Tim, later on, when he and Sara were alone together. He spoke with an oddly curt—almost inimical—inflection in his voice.
“Now that's unkind of you, Tim,” she protested smilingly. “I thought you were a good enough pal not to want to chortle over me—as I know Geoffrey will—should the thing turn out a frost!”
“Well, I'm not, then,” he returned roughly.