She drew back from him as he approached her; she was not yet consciously denying his right. What was controlling him, what might underlie his hope that they were dead, she could not guess; she could not think or reason about that now; what she felt was only overwhelming desire to be away from him where she could think connectedly. For an instant she stared at him, all her body tense; then, as she turned and went out, he followed her, again calling her name. But, seeing the seamen in the larger office, he stopped, and she understood he was not willing to urge himself upon her in their presence.
She crossed the office swiftly; in the corridor she stopped to compose herself before she met her mother. She heard Henry's voice speaking to one of the clerks, and flushed hotly with horror. Could she be certain of anything about him now? Could she be certain even that news which came through these employees of his would not be kept from her or only so much given her as would serve Henry's purpose and enable him to conceal from her the reason for his fear? She pushed the door open.
"I'm willing to go home now, mother, if you wish," she said steadily.
Her mother arose at once. "There is no more news, Constance?"
"No; a schooner has picked up the crew of the ship the ferry rammed; that is all."
She followed her mother, but stopped in the ante-room beside the desk of her father's private secretary.
"You are going to be here all day, Miss Bennet?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss Sherrill."
"Will you please try to see personally all messages which come to Corvet, Sherrill and Spearman, or to Mr. Spearman about the men from Number 25, and telephone them to me yourself?"
"Certainly, Miss Sherrill."