“I am right,” Tamea soliloquized as she switched off her bedside lamp and slipped into bed. “Maisie loves him. She was too sure of him and that is a mistake. No woman should be too sure of any man because all men are children. After I left Dan with her they quarreled. That is well. Dan is not ashamed of me, then. Now Maisie weeps. That is well, too.”
The telephone tinkled faintly and Tamea took down the telephone.
“How do you do?” said Tamea cordially into the mouthpiece.
“Dan speaking, Tamea. I am going back to San Francisco tomorrow morning and you are to accompany me.”
“But Maisie and her aunt remain here?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I am a very wonderful girl. I am smart—yes, you bet.” Her triumphant, musical little chuckle was soothing to his scarred soul.
“Julia will be in your room at six o’clock to awaken you and pack your suitcase and trunk. Good night, my dear.”
“I kiss you once—for luck,” said Tamea and smacked her lips loudly. Then she hung up, snuggled down in bed and fell asleep almost instantly. She had started the day with a handicap, but her finish had been magnificent and she was well content.