“What’s the trouble?” he inquired, the irritation he had felt the moment before giving his voice a touch of gruffness.
“I’ve got to go out for a little while,” she at last managed to reply.
“Very well,” he assented unwillingly. “But you can tell me what’s the trouble with you, can’t you? Where do you have to go?”
“I—I,” began Jennie, stammering. “I—have—”
“Yes,” he said grimly.
“I have to go on an errand,” she stumbled on. “I—I can’t wait. I’ll tell you when I come back, Lester. Please don’t ask me now.”
She looked vainly at him, her troubled countenance still marked by preoccupation and anxiety to get away, and Lester, who had never seen this look of intense responsibility in her before, was moved and irritated by it.
“That’s all right,” he said, “but what’s the use of all this secrecy? Why can’t you come out and tell what’s the matter with you? What’s the use of this whispering behind doors? Where do you have to go?”
He paused, checked by his own harshness, and Jennie, who was intensely wrought up by the information she had received, as well as the unwonted verbal castigation she was now enduring, rose to an emotional state never reached by her before.
“I will, Lester, I will,” she exclaimed. “Only not now. I haven’t time. I’ll tell you everything when I come back. Please don’t stop me now.”