“Yes.” He refused to discuss that aspect of it. “And it comes in the nick of time for you, old dear.”
Their flight was a hurried one. A note for Lucy and one for Towne. A note for Edith!
Jane was not well was the reason given their hostess. The note to Towne said more than that. And the note to Edith was—renunciation.
Edith coming home to luncheon found the note in her room. All the morning she had been filled with glorious anticipation. Baldy would arrive in a few hours. Together they would walk down that trellised path to the fountain, they would sit on the marble coping. She would trail her hand through the water. Further than that she would not let her imagination carry her. It was enough that she would see him in that magic place with his air of golden youth.
But she was not to see him, for the note said:
“Beloved—I make no excuse for calling you that because I say it always in my heart—Jane has made up her mind that she cannot marry your uncle. So we are leaving at once.
“I can’t tell you what the thought of these two days with you meant to me. And now I must give them up. Perhaps I must give you up, I don’t know. I came with high hopes. I go away without any hope at all. But I love you.”
Edith read the note twice, then put it to her lips. She hardly dared admit to herself the keenness of her disappointment.
She stood for a long time at the window looking out. Why had Jane decided not to marry Uncle Frederick? What had happened since yesterday afternoon?
From Edith’s window she could see the south lawn. The servants were arranging a buffet luncheon. Little tables were set around—and wicker chairs. Adelaide, tall and fair, in her favorite blue and a broad black hat stood by one of the little tables. She was feeding the peacock with bits of bread. She made a picture, and Towne’s window faced that way.
“I wonder——” Edith said, and stopped. She remembered coming in from the movies the night before and finding Adelaide and Towne on the porch. And where was Jane?