“You did, and then went away.”
“Well, all I have to say, Jane, is that this is not a bit like you. I am sorry I brought you down, and I won't keep you any longer. Good-night. I shall see you tomorrow.”
But Jane got between him and the door and stood with her back to it. “No, Larry, you are not going away like that. Go into the study.” Larry looked at her in astonishment. This was indeed a new Jane to him. Wrathful, imperious, she stood waving him toward the study door. In spite of his irritation he was conscious of a new admiration for her. Feeling a little like a boy about to receive his punishment, he passed into the study.
“Didn't Mrs. Allen give you my message?” he said.
“Your message, Larry?” cried Jane, a light breaking upon her face. “Did you leave a message for me?”
“I did. I told Mrs. Allen to tell you where I had gone—Helen was so anxious to go—and that I would be right back.” Larry's voice was full of reproach.
“Oh, Larry, I am so glad,” said Jane, her tone indicating the greatness of her relief. “I knew it was all right—that something had prevented. I am so glad you came in. You must have thought me queer.”
“No,” said Larry, appeased, “I knew all the time there must be some explanation, only I was feeling so miserable.”
“And I was miserable, too, Larry,” she said gently. “It seemed a pity that this should happen on our last night.” All her wrath was gone. She was once more the Jane that Larry had always known, gentle, sweet, straightforward, and on her face the old transfiguring smile. Before this change of mood all his irritation vanished. Humbled, penitent, and with a rush of warm affection filling his heart, he said,
“I should have known you were not to blame, but you are always right. Never once in all these years have you failed me. You always understand a fellow. Do you know I am wondering how I shall ever do without you? Have you thought, Jane, that to-morrow this old life of ours together will end?”