The dull monotony of those fall days in Antioch was never forgotten by Constance Emory. She was listless and restless by turns. She had hoped that she might hear from Oakley. She even thought the Joyces might bring her some message, but none had come. Dan had taken her at her word.
She had made no friends, and, with Ryder dead and Oakley gone, she saw. no one, and finally settled down into an apathy that alarmed the doctor. He, after some deliberation, suddenly announced his intention of going East to attend a medical convention.
“Shall you see Mr. Oakley?” Constance asked, with quick interest.
“Probably, if he's in New York when I get there.”
Constance gave him a scared look and dropped her eyes. But when the time drew near for his departure, she followed him about as if there were something on her mind which she wished to tell him.
The day he started, she found courage to ask, “Won't you take me with you, papa?”
“Not this time, dear,” he answered.
She was quiet for a moment, and then said:
“Papa, you are not going to tell him?”
“Tell who, Constance? What?”