"She's so charming that nobody expects anything else of her," Joy flashed back, "and I have to be good, because all people can like me for is my goodness—is that what you mean?"
And she stood up, as the car slowed before the Hewitt house, and sprang out. She had seen Clarence Rutherford sunning himself expectantly on the steps.
"There's the man who sent her over, if you approve of it all so highly," were her departing words to John. "I promise not to be inhospitable to him!"
She waved her hand.
"Mr. Rutherford!" she called. "Come on down and go off somewhere with me!"
Clarence unfolded himself with more haste than usual, and obliged.
"To the end of the world, Sorcerette, or any little place like that," he said sweetly. "I have no car, alas, but I can telephone for one."
"No, don't," said Joy, whose one idea was to get away. "Just go into the house and bring me my cap and any wrap you can find."
She did not dare look back to John. She felt she was being everything she oughtn't to, but she also felt that she had cause.
"Here's your hat," said Clarence, coming out with it, and refraining from completing the quotation. "Where do you want to go? I have many beautiful plans to offer you, principally about your being leading lady in my comic opera. You are going to have to get an extension of parole from the dear ones at home."