"Morton coming?"
She shook her head and ran lightly upstairs.
"No, I'm not going," George said. "She's right. The fresh air will do you good."
"Thanks," Dalrymple answered, petulantly. "I'm quite capable of prescribing for myself."
He went out in search of his hat and coat.
George watched him, letting all his dislike escape. Continually they hovered on the edge of a break, but Dalrymple wouldn't quite permit it now. George was confident that the seed sown last night would flower.
He was glad when Mundy telephoned before dinner about some difficulties of transportation that might have been solved the next day. George sprang at the excuse, however, refused Blodgett's offer of a car to town, and drove to the station.
Dalrymple and Sylvia hadn't returned.
XII
In town Goodhue, too, read his discontent.