“Keep to the right,” she exclaimed. “I am in my car waiting for you.” She breathed more easily as Curtis, touching the fender, passed down the side of the car and stopped by Armstrong.
“You win, doctor.” Armstrong laughed tolerantly, keeping his voice pleasant with an effort. “If you had been a second later, I’d have gone with Anne. I’ll explain to your mother, Anne. By-by.” And with a jaunty wave of his hand, he sauntered back to the house.
Curtis placed his hand on the open door and swung inside the car. He had no key to the situation, but Anne had called him—that was enough. Anne’s foot was on the accelerator as he slammed the door; the next second the gears slipped into place and the powerful roadster started down the driveway and made the turn into the Rockville Pike. Not until then did Anne break her silence.
“I had such a headache,” she said. “And it was so stuffy in the house I stole away, and—and—”
“I came along.” Curtis laughed happily. “Thank God!”
Anne shot a half shy, half merry glance at him. She had been so long immersed in bitter, unhappy thoughts that nature could stand no more. Suddenly she gave way to unrestrained laughter.
“Oh!” she gasped, when she could make herself intelligible between gusts of merriment. “If you had seen Gerald’s face! You came just at the right moment.”
“Thank you—”
“It is I who should thank you for rescuing me from an intolerable situation.” She had sobered as quickly as she had given way to irresistible mirth. “I have a great deal to thank you for.”
“Don’t!” Curtis laid his hand for an instant on hers. “I am happiest when at your service.” His voice deepened with feeling. “I hope that you believe me.”