"Forgive me, Barbe, if I speak plainly, these being times for plain speaking!" said Glenowen. "Truly, I can't understand a man who loves you being other than wax in your hands, you witch,—if you took the trouble to manage him. That may sound cynical, but I hope not. It's true. You owe Robert to our cause! We want him!"
Barbara looked down, her face scarlet and her lips quivering. Then she faced her uncle bravely.
"I begin to fear I want him for myself, as much as for the cause, Uncle Bob!" she confessed.
"It's not Cary Patten, then?" asked Glenowen.
Barbara smiled enigmatically. "Cary Patten is extremely charming!" she answered. "But do you know, Uncle Bob, if Robert is still in town?"
"I think," said Glenowen, "I can say with confidence that he will get away from the city to-morrow or next day,—-for friends who love him, in our party, will let him know the danger of remaining! One must make such compromises sometimes, if one is a red-blooded human being and not a bloodless saint!"
"Uncle Bob, I'm afraid you will never be a Lucius Junius Brutus!" said Barbara.
"No, thank God!" cried Glenowen, with conviction.
"I'm so glad!" said Barbara, who was very human when she was not all woman. "Brutus was right, I think! But I've always hated him!"
Then she turned to her scrutoir and wrote a cool little note to Robert, asking him to come in and speak to her a moment the next morning.