There was no reply, and Sartwell, looking up, saw Edna, standing with pallid cheeks and lips parted, swaying slightly from side to side.
He sprang up, and supported her with his arm.
“My girl, my little girl!” he cried. “What is the matter? What is this to you?”
Her head sank against his breast, and she said in a quavering whisper, broken by a sob:
“It is everything to me, father, everything!”
He patted her affectionately on the shoulder.
“Is it so, my darling, is it so? I was afraid once that was the case, but I thought you had forgotten. There, don’t cry; it is sure to be all right. The papers generally exaggerate these things. Come, let us have breakfast, and we will both go to the hospital together.”
Edna’s desire for breakfast was gone, but she made a pretense of eating and then hurried to get ready and accompany her father. It was so early that they had a first-class compartment to themselves, the travel city-wards not having begun for the day.
Edna was silent, and nothing had been said from the house to the station. When they were in the train, her father spoke with some hesitation.
“Edna, have you seen Marsten since the time when I found you together in the garden?”