But Marjorie declined Peggy. All she wanted was to rest a little longer.
She flung herself on the softly mattressed cot in one corner of the room; and nearly went to sleep.
She was awakened—it must have been quite sleep—by Francis, on the threshold. His eyes were blazing, and he was evidently angry at her to the last degree—angrier even than he had been that time in the city when he nearly threw the telephone at her.
"Is this the sort of person you are?" he demanded furiously. "Look at this telegram!"
Marjorie, frightened, rose from the couch with her heart beating like a triphammer.
"Let me see," she asked.
He handed the telegram to her with an effect of wanting to shake her.
"Am coming up to arrange with you about Mrs. Ellison," it said. "Know all."
It was signed by Logan.
"Good heavens!" said Marjorie helplessly.