"Your father," he panted. He looked away from her: "I must see him now."
Betty did not understand. She was only exalted by this new thing; she was only happy.
"Now?" she whispered.
"Yes." He looked back at her and, with a white face, smiled. "He has a right to know." He caught her hand, pressed it only as tightly as he dared. "I'll go to him in the library. Wait for me."
§5. Forbes was seated at a round table, engaged in his regular nightly task of reading the editorial-page of the Evening Star, nodding his head when he agreed with its generalities and muttering maledictions upon it when it specifically ridiculed the Progressive Party. As Luke came in, Forbes was in the midst of one of the paper's attacks on progressivism, and his frown seemed to drive his beaked nose into his mustache.
"Oh, Huber," he said, without at once relaxing his scowl; "I didn't know you were here. Come in. Been here long?"
Luke could not have guessed how long he had been in the house.
"Not very," he ventured.
"Sit down," said Forbes. He had not risen. He indicated an easy-chair near his own.
"Thanks," said Luke; but he did not sit down.