After a time she asked him about the letter.
“A letter?” he asked, seeming puzzled. “Did you expect a letter to come here?”
“Perhaps I did not tell you.” She nodded toward the corner where the three pigskin bags stood. “When I wrote the letter to my friend, I gave him this address.”
“I see. Well, there has been no letter.”
“I suppose,” she said dully, “that I may as well turn the bags back to Kay King and get the money.”
“Must you?” He looked at her sharply.
“I think I must. I’ll call him on the phone now.”
Before she could put this plan into execution, Swen came bursting into the room. He wore no cap. His hair was filled with snow. His face was red with the cold. But his spirits were buoyant.
“Had a whale of a time,” he shouted boisterously. “And see! I have three whole dollars! To-night we feast.”
Petite Jeanne heaved a sigh of relief. There was money in the house. Now she need not call Kay King, at least not until morning.