"I can't explain now," William returned, frowning over his coffee-cup. "Perhaps later to-day I may tell you more. I—I don't want to talk about it now. I have hard work before me to-day at the bank—a meeting of the directors, and other things of importance."
Celeste stared stolidly. She sat a moment erect in her chair, then said, crisply, "If you will excuse me, I'll go attend to Ruth."
William half rose as she got up, and then with a limp attitude of relief he sank back into his chair. He had not touched his eggs and toast. He drank his coffee rapidly and signaled the butler to fill his cup again. "Strong," he said; "no cream or sugar."
"Very well, sir." Michael obeyed with sympathetic deliberation. He evidently wanted to talk to his master about his brother, but he could find no plausible excuse for so doing. William bolted a few mouthfuls of the food on his plate, finished his third cup of coffee, and rose.
"I shall not be here to lunch," he said. "We'll have something served in the bank."
"Very well, sir." Michael drew his chair back and bowed as his master left the room.
William was getting his hat from the rack in the hall when Celeste came to the top of the stairs. "Do you want to see Ruth before you go?" she called down. "She is awake, but not quite dressed."
"Not now, dear. I am in an awful hurry," he said, impatiently. "I have no time to lose."
"Very well," Celeste coldly replied, and disappeared.
Outside the sun was shining brightly; the air was invigorating with its bare hint of dewiness on the trees and sward of the Common which he was crossing. A wondrous haze draped the Public Gardens some distance away on his right. On his left, the golden dome of the State House blazed under its reflected fire. The city's dull hum fell upon his ears, punctuated by the far-off peal of a bell.