"We're at Gloucester, safe and sound. I'm awfully sorry if you've worried, Mrs. Martens. But I could not get to a 'phone before this. We'll come back by train, and Betty says you're not to wait dinner. We'll get something here. We're all right, really—only sorry if you are upset."
"We are very much upset," Sophie told him, severely. "Anthony is here, and he is extremely anxious."
"He needn't worry," grimly. "I can take care of her."
Mrs. Martens, explaining the situation to Anthony a few minutes later, refrained, tactfully, from giving Justin's exact words.
Anthony dined with her, then went off to see Miss Matthews, who had asked him to prescribe for her cold.
"Call me up when Bettina comes," he said, as he left.
Sophie promised, and watched him drive away in his little car. She had never seen him so nervous, so irritable. Was this what the thwarting of his life would mean—that he would let go of the serenity which had made his presence a benediction to his little world?
Or was it really love for Bettina which so disturbed him? Stranger things had happened. Diana was away—Bettina was beautiful—Justin was in the field to measure lances.
With Peter Pan for company, Sophie waited on the porch for the recreant pair.
When they arrived it was very dark, and she could not see their faces. But what had made that difference in their voices—that subtle, thrilling difference?