He stared at her for a moment, and when he spoke it was in a different tone. “Yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Janey.”
Mrs. Follette, having effaced herself for the moment from the conversation, decided that things between her son and little Jane Barnes might reach a climax at any moment. “I believe he’s half in love with her,” she told herself in some bewilderment.
As for Frederick Towne, she didn’t consider him for a moment. Jane was a pretty child. But Frederick Towne could have his pick of women. There would be nothing serious in this friendship with Jane.
Jane called up Towne. “It was good of you to ask me,” she said. “I am at the Follettes’, but I’ll go home and dress and Briggs can come for me there.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you could see me. I took a walk with Evans this afternoon and I show the effects of it.”
“Evans? Oh, Casabianca?”
“What makes you call him that?”
“I thought of it when I saw him waiting for you at the top of the terrace. ‘The boy stood on the burning deck——’” he laughed.
“I don’t think that’s funny at all,” said Jane, frankly.