"No, no!" he said hoarsely. "I don't dare—I can't—it's beyond me! Dodo, at seven o'clock can you be ready?"
"Two hours only!"
"Take only a valise. Let everything be new! Can you do it?"
"Yes!"
"I will go and arrange my affairs, make preparations and be back here at seven precisely. We'll dine, and then—the night express for the West, as you wished!"
"Yes!"
"I will telephone. You will come down. I will be at the corner, waiting, at seven!"
"Yes!"
He caught her again in his arms, lifting her off her feet, half mad with recklessness and impatience, and started toward the door. Suddenly he turned, came back, and catching her shoulders in his two hands, looked at her savagely.
"What is it?" she said faintly. Could this be what she had made of Massingale?