“Mrs. Bryce, the letters are in my possession. May I keep them, for the present, Isabelle?”
She nodded.
“This gentleman has just signed a paper, drawn up by Mr. Bryce and me, signed by Mr. Clifford. This will be held by Mr. Clifford, in case of need. That ends this conference, I believe,” he said affably.
The editor left hastily. Mr. Clifford went into the outer office, and Max turned to Isabelle.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were going to marry this man?” she demanded.
Isabelle looked at Larry inquiringly, whereupon he took her hand and drew it through his arm.
“Ye must forgive her, Mrs. Bryce, ye see she didn’t know it. I’ve never had a chance yet to ask her.”
Max was used to shocks, but this morning had been too much for her. At this astounding statement on the part of their god-like liberator, she sat down suddenly, bereft of words, and stared at the two young people.
“Take me home, Wally,” she said, “I can’t stand any more!”