"Glen isn't here," she answered coldly. "I trust you will soon be enabled to find him—then—we can go."
"Not here?" repeated Bostwick. "Where is he, then?"
"Somewhere out in another camp—or mining place—or something. Now please go and dress. We can talk it over later."
"This is abominable of Glen," said Bostwick. "Is McCoppet in town?"
She looked her surprise. "McCoppet?"
"You don't know him, of course," he hastened to say. "I shall try to find him at once." He turned to go, beheld her luggage, and added: "Is there anyone to take up your things?"
She could not bear to have him enter her apartment in this awful prison costume.
"Oh, yes," she answered. "You needn't be bothered with the bags."
"Very well. I shall soon return." He departed at once, his impatience suddenly increased by the thought of seeking out McCoppet.
Beth watched him going. A sickening sense of revulsion invaded all her nature. And when her thoughts, like lawless rebels, stole guiltily to Van, she might almost have boxed her own tingling ears in sheer vexation.