Muriel smiled faintly, thinking this the desire of a lover’s heart.
“Well, John,” she said, “let me tell her you are here.”
Harrington hesitated, thinking whether he ought to keep the Captain on duty longer. On the other hand, he felt the need of an immediate understanding with Emily. With this mingled a sense of how painful and embarrassing an interview it would be. Would this time be well chosen for it, when Emily was already in sorrow? No. He concluded that he must wait.
Muriel, while he deliberated, had moved slowly to the door, awaiting his decision, and seeing that he seemed unable to make up his mind, resolved to decide for him.
“I’ll call her,” she said, vanishing from the room, just as Harrington had made his conclusion.
Harrington sprang forward to stop her, stumbled over a stool, and nearly fell, and when he reached the entry Muriel was not to be seen.
“Good!” he muttered, with some chagrin. “It seems the Fates have decided that the explanation is to ensue now.”
He threw down his hat, and tried to think what he should say. As usual in such cases he could think of nothing.
“A pretty plight I’m in to see anybody,” he muttered, glancing at his dust-covered garments, and conscious that a bath would improve him.