"Isn't she a widow?"
"I guess so.... No matter." ... He stood up briskly; she rose, too, understanding that the interview was ended—feeling slightly uncomfortable because she had permitted herself to be so thoroughly pumped. Yet there seemed to be nothing significant in the operation or results.
"I'm going for a ride with my wife"—he meant drive—"just a buggy and an old plug. She and I enjoy it, Miss Tennant."
To her surprise he took her hand between his own dry little palms and pressed it.
"You're a good girl," he said; "you and your sister—and Edgerton—he's all right—you're good children—and all off the same tree, little lady—all off the same old block in the beginning—that's plain as preaching.... Do you really like my Christine?"
"Yes, I do."
"And Jack?"
"Exceedingly."
"That's right; they like you, too. They ought to. They're good children, and so are you. Good-by."
CHAPTER X