“Here, get out—go down stairs!” And he did, hurriedly.
Crane had followed him down. Allis was standing just within the hall door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Porter,” he said. “It was good of you to come. I've got something very important to tell you, and it's better that we have quiet—it doesn't seem quite the usual order of things here. Should you mind coming upstairs to the sitting room, where we shall be undisturbed?”
“I don't mind,” answered the girl, simply.
“Have a chair,” he said, motioning to the one Cass had lately sat in.
Crane did not take the other seat, but paced restlessly up and down the room; it cooled the fever of his mind.
“I hope it isn't more bad news, Mr. Crane,” Allis said; for her companion seemed indisposed to break the silence.
“It is—” the girl started—“for me,” Crane added, after a little pause; “and yet I am glad.”
“That sounds strange,” Allis commented, wonderingly.
“What I am going to say to you means the destruction of the dearest hope I have in life, but it can't be helped. Now I wouldn't have it any other way.”