She sprang up suddenly, and said, aloud: "Oh, I can't bear this room! It's so stuffy and noisy!"
Instantly McGinity was up, and looking at her across the desk. He looked into her eyes steadily, where he fancied he caught a glimpse of tears.
"Pat," he said, gently, and a little inarticulately, as though he was ashamed of himself, "may I ask you a bold question?"
"If you like, certainly," sighed Pat.
"Will you go to dinner with me?"
"Thank you, Bob," she replied; and sat down, and finished her article.
I learned of all this afterwards, of course, but where they dined, and what was said there, I have no personal knowledge. I can only guess. Afterwards they went to a popular cinema, where the lights are so conveniently dim.
About ten, Pat called up, and announced she would be home around eleven, which quieted our growing apprehension and anxiety. In the same breath, rather tremulous, she said: "Bob's bringing me home."
I had Jane turn off the bright lights in the lower part of the house. She lit the candles in the drawing room and hall, while I poked up the fire, and pulled up our softest and deepest chair, which was quite big enough for two. Henry, to my amazement, brought in some autumnal flowers he had gathered the day before from his garden at the castle, and arranged them in a vase on the mantelpiece.
We were of course much intrigued, and indulged in much speculation until they arrived. Schweizer admitted them, and then discreetly disappeared. Leaning over the railing at the head of the stairs, I contrived to remain so absolutely still that not a creak betrayed that I was looking on, and listening in, in spite of a twinge of conscience. But it was a moment so fateful and momentous in Pat's life that I felt I had the right to share it with her.