“Do you know?”
Roberts’ glance wandered into the shadow where the girl was, then returned slowly to the street and the red car.
“I rode East with Steve Armstrong,” he said, “as far as he went. I also wired him when I was coming, and we returned together. He told me, I think, everything—except about your father. He forgot that, if he knew. Do you doubt I know the reason, Elice?”
Out of the shadow came the girl’s face,—the face only.
“You did this for Stephen Armstrong—after what is past! Why?”
“Because life is short and I wanted to know several things before I came to-night. Would you like to hear what it was I wished to learn?”
Again the face vanished.
“Yes,” said a voice.
“You know already, so it won’t be news. One was that he still cares for you—as always. He perjured himself once, because he thought it was his duty; but he has never ceased to care. The other thing was that he’s changed his mind and is going back to his literary work. His novel, that was accepted tentatively, will be published 294 next Winter. What else I learned is immaterial. I don’t often venture a prediction, but in his case I’ll make the exception. I believe that this time he’ll make good. He has the incentive—and experience. Do you still doubt I know the reason, Elice?”
“No. But that you should tell me this!”