"Tom, old man!" he called eagerly. "I'm now free to see you home. We'll slip out the side entrance—" He stopped short, perceiving that the big chair was empty, and that the figure in the chair across was not a man's.
"Er—beg pardon!" he stammered. "I—er—expected to find my friend here. Believe me, I would not have intruded—"
"So you d—don't consider me a friend!" retorted Dolores, vainly striving to hide her grief under a scornful tone.
"Miss Gantry!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?"
"It's not Vievie, that's certain. The sooner you run along and mind your business, the better."
"Miss Dolores, I—I really can't see why you hold such a dislike to me. I'll go immediately. I hadn't the remotest idea of intruding. You'll believe that? Only, y'know, I left Tom—Mr. Blake—in here. I came to go home with him. He was quite knocked-up. He should not have come to-night."
"You knew it!—you knew it, and left him in here alone!"
"Why, what do you mean, Miss Dolores? You alarm me! I left him asleep—fancied he'd not be disturbed in here—that an hour or so of sleep would freshen him up for the drive home."
"So you left him—alone—for mamma and that despicable creature to do their worst!"
"Miss Dolores, I—I beg your pardon, but I quite fail to take you. If anything has happened to Tom—"