“So I was before the accident.”
Marie-Celeste paused a moment to straighten things out in her mind; then she asked, “But why, Ted, did you tell them your name was Morris?”
“Harry Allyn did that. He knew I would feel awfully mortified, and he wanted Harold never to know.”
“He never shall,” Marie-Celeste said slowly, giving her full endorsement to that part of the proceeding, and Ted inwardly pronounced her a dearer child than ever.
“Where is Harry Allyn now?”
“He stops up at the hotel at Nuneham, and comes down to look after me ever day.”
“Do his people know?”
“They know about the accident, but not where we are staying.”
“Oh, well, that makes me understand why Miss Allyn said she hardly believed we would meet you on this driving trip. All the rest of us were hoping we would. Miss Allyn would have hoped so, too, if she had not known, I suppose.”
“Well, I don't suppose anything of the kind,” said Ted, “but what's this about your driving trip, Marie-Celeste?”