“Be sensible, dear; it’s just as hard for me as it is for you. And people are talking!”
In her absorption she had forgotten the importance of secrecy and the danger of being overheard. The swing doors had creaked several times, but she had attributed this to suction from an open window in the kitchen. Constance and Shepherd would wonder at her absence; the talk must not be prolonged.
“I’ve got to go!” she added hurriedly.
“Say you care—that you’re not just putting me off——”
“I love you, Freddy! Please be patient. Remember, I love you with all my heart! Yes, always!”
As she hung up the receiver she turned round to face her father. He had entered the house through the kitchen and might or might not have heard part of her dialogue with Thomas. But she was instantly aware that her last words, in the tense, lover-like tone in which she had spoken them, were enough to convict her.
“Hello, Dada! How’s the live stock?” she asked with poorly feigned carelessness as she hung the receiver on the hook.
Mills, his overcoat flung over his arm, his hat pushed back from his forehead, eyed her with a cold stare.
“Why are you telephoning here?” he demanded.
“No reasons. I didn’t want to disturb Connie and Shep. They’re reading in the living-room.”