"Oh, I am so sorry—I forgot." She introduced them. "Mr. Kettering—Miss Leighton. . . . Mr. Kettering has been looking over the house; I hope he will buy it," she added childishly.
"It's a shame it has got to be sold," said Gladys bluntly. There was something very taking about her, in spite of red hair and an indifferent complexion; she had honest blue eyes and a pleasant voice. She looked at Kettering a great deal as she spoke; perhaps she noticed how often his eyes rested on Christine. When presently they went out into the garden, she walked between them; she kept an arm about Christine's little figure.
"I missed the train," she explained. "I got your husband's wire,
Christine. Oh, yes, I got it all right, and I rushed to pack the very
minute; but the cab was slow, and I just missed the train. However,
I'm here all right."
She looked at Kettering.
"Do you live near here?" she asked him.
"No; but I am hoping to soon," he said; and again she wondered if it were only her imagination that his eyes turned once more to Christine.
When they got back to the house he bade them "good-bye." The big car was still waiting in the drive; its headlights were lit now, and they shone through the darkness like watchful eyes.
"Who is he, anyway?" Gladys asked Christine bluntly, when Kettering had driven off. Christine shook her head.
"I don't know; he came down in the train with me, and we had lunch at the same table, and he spoke. He was coming down here to look at our house, and so—well, we came up together."
"What do you think Jimmy would say?"