The servant bowed and retired, while he returned to his company.
As soon as he could make it come right, he said:
“Boys, I’m in a troublesome fix; I’ve just received a summons upon important business, and shall be obliged to leave you.”
Mr. Sumner, it seems, was in the habit of receiving “summons upon important business,” and there was now a noisy protest against his leaving them.
“I must,” he said, with some show of impatience; “but you can stay and finish the feast; and, if I can possibly put off the unpleasant affair, or get excused, I’ll return right away.”
Not staying to listen to their repeated regrets, George Sumner hurried from the room and bent his steps to the little reception-room at the end of the corridor.
As he opened the door the first object that met his eyes was a forlorn figure seated upon the sofa, her golden head bowed in an attitude of weariness and misery upon its arm.
As he expected, it was Marion.
At the first sound of his footsteps upon the threshold she started wildly up and threw herself, weeping, into his arms.
“Oh, George, I am so miserable! Why did you not come to me? Why did you not write to me?” she cried excitedly.