He obeyed. But whether it was tobacco or gunpowder in his old briarwood pipe he could not have told. The poor wretch was mazed with happiness.
“Poor little Aline is all by herself upstairs,” said Norma, after a while.
“Heaven forgive me,” cried Jimmie, starting up. “I had n't thought about her!”
Chapter XXIV—MRS. HARDACRE FORGETS
WHILE this tragical comedy of the domestic felicities was being enacted, Connie Deering's brougham containing three agitated, silent, human beings was rapidly approaching the scene.
They had made certain of finding Norma at Bryanston Square. The news that she had not arrived disquieted them. Morland anxiously suggested the police. They had a hurried colloquy, Morland and Connie standing on the pavement, Mrs. Hardacre inside the carriage, thrusting her head through the window. Connie falteringly confessed to the meeting of Jimmie and Norma in the afternoon. Something serious had evidently passed between them.
Morland broke into an oath. “By God! That's where she's gone. Damn him!”
“We must get her away at all costs,” said Mrs. Hardacre, tensely.