Craige laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and patted her gently as he kissed her. “We understand,” he said. “Now, what can we do for you?”
Rodgers, who still held Kitty’s hand in both of his, released it reluctantly. He was slow of speech, but his eyes, meeting Kitty’s gaze, conveyed a message all their own. As Kitty preceded them across the library, a warm blush mantled her cheeks.
“Sit here, Miss Baird.” Rodgers placed a chair for her near the chimney while Craige pulled forward two others. Grateful for the warmth from the fire, for her bedroom was insufficiently heated, Kitty stretched out her hands to the blaze.
“Why is your telephone disconnected, Kitty?” asked Craige, after a brief silence which neither Kitty or Rodgers made any attempt to break.
“We were deluged with calls,” she explained. “Especially the newspaper reporters.” She shivered slightly. “They gave Mandy no rest.”
“But to cut yourself off from your friends, Kitty, was that wise?” chided Craige gently. “No one could reach you—I tried and failed.”
“It did not stop your coming over to ask for me,” she put in gratefully. “Ben and Nina Potter stopped for a second before dinner. They left for New York to-night.”
“Indeed?” Craige frowned. “They should have remained here with you,” noting with concern the dark shadows under her eyes and the forlorn droop to her usually erect shoulders. “You must not stay here alone.”
“But I am not alone,” she protested. “Dear, faithful Mandy is with me.”
Craige shook his head, unsatisfied. “Mandy is an ignorant colored woman, old at that,” he remarked. “You must have companionship—woman’s companionship of your own class. Why not ask Cecilia Parsons?”