“Mr. Storrs, I came to thank you for the great service you rendered me last night. I was in very great distress. You can understand my anxious concern; so I needn’t touch upon that. Words are inadequate to express my gratitude. But I can at least let you know that I appreciate what you did for me—for me and my daughter.”
He ended with a slight inclination of the head.
“Thank you, Mr. Mills,” said Bruce, taking the hand Mills extended. “I hope Miss Mills is quite well.”
“Quite, thank you.”
With an abrupt change of manner that dismissed the subject Mills glanced about the room.
“You bring work home? That speaks for zeal in your profession. Aren’t the days long enough?”
“Oh, this is a little private affair,” said Bruce, noting that Mills’s gaze had fallen upon the drawings propped against the wall. It was understood between him and the Freemans that his participation in the Laconia competition was to be kept secret; but he felt moved to explain to Mills the nature of the drawings. The man had suffered in the past twenty-four hours—it would be ungenerous to let him go without making some attempt to divert his thoughts from Leila’s misbehavior.
“This may interest you, Mr. Mills; I mean the general proposition—not my little sketches. Only—it must be confidential!”
“Yes; certainly,” Mills smiled a grave assent. “Perhaps you’d rather not tell me—I’m afraid my curiosity got the better of my manners.”
“Oh, not that, sir! Mr. and Mrs. Freeman know, of course; but I don’t want to have to explain my failure in case I lose! I’m glad to tell you about it; you may have some suggestions.”