“She wouldn’t understand it,” he repeated, annoyed. “She’s an unusually sensitive girl.”
He went on along the corridor to take leave of Frank Donnell.
Rosalind looked at Coltfoot, inclined to giggle.
“Don’t think it,” said Coltfoot with a shrug.
“I don’t know—” Rosalind turned and looked across at Eris. Smull had seated himself beside her in Annan’s chair. Other men gathered around her. Her beauty startled Rosalind.
“It would be funny,” she said. “That child has no heart. Neither has Barry Annan.... They’re merely a pair of minds.... It would be funny if they became entangled ... intellectually.”
CHAPTER XIV
THEY didn’t dine together at Annan’s house in Governor’s Place; or anywhere else.
Eris tried desperately to get him on the telephone. A few minutes before train time she telegraphed:
“Am leaving unexpectedly at three o’clock this afternoon for the Pacific Coast. Heart-broken on account of our engagement. Shall write from train.