“I have always known something wonderful would happen for Kara,” Tory murmured, and then flushed and bit her lips.
“Do please be still and wait, can’t you, Tory?” Dorothy whispered with an impatience she rarely showed.
“Don’t you think you are going too far, Hammond?” Dr. McClain interposed. “You are giving Richard Fenton and Tory the impression that we have actual information when neither of us is completely convinced.”
Having the same sanguine and ardent temperament that Tory Drew possessed, Mr. Hammond appeared a little nonplussed.
“Yes? Well, perhaps you are right, Dr. McClain, although I might as well confess right here that personally I am convinced. It is getting on toward lunch time. Will you have lunch with me and allow me to end my story afterwards?”
Not daring to speak again, Tory’s imploring gaze at her uncle would have influenced his decision had he not been of the same mind.
“No, we are in no hurry for lunch and considerably impatient to discover how Lance McClain’s new-found friend has any connection with Katherine Moore. I recall the child was brought to the Gray House on the Hill when she was little more than a baby, with nothing known of her parentage or history save the name written on a slip of paper pinned to her dress.”
“Why, this Mr. Owen Moore claims to be her—”
“Father?” Mr. Fenton finished.
Tory glanced at him in an amused fashion in spite of the intensity of her excitement, so rarely did Mr. Fenton forget to be perfectly courteous.