Her heart went out to the substantial friend he had proved to every one, though it was all but unthinkable to have Quentin Charter taken from the Palms that night.
"I'll go with you at once, but we must see Miss Wyndam safely back.... She'll be more comfortable in the carriage with you, and we can hurry," Charter declared.
He held his arms to her and lifted her down.
"How I pity you!" she whispered. "You are weary unto death, but I am so glad—so glad you are safely back from the mountain."
"Thank you.... You, too, are trembling with weariness. It would not do, not to go to Father Fontanel—would it?"
"No, no!"
At the hotel, Charter took a few moments to put on fresh clothing. Paula waited with Peter Stock on the lower floor until he appeared. The capitalist did not fail to see that they wanted a word together, and clattered forth to see the "pilot of his deep-sea hack."
"You'd better go aboard to-morrow morning," Charter said.
"Yes, to-morrow, possibly,—we shall know then. You will be here in the morning—the first thing in the morning?"
"Yes." There was a wonder-world of emotion in his word.