But he was wrong. She was in her room, was face down upon
her bed, sobbing as if her first illusion had fallen, had dashed
to pieces, crushing her heart under it.
CHAPTER XVII
A NIGHT MARCH
Arkwright saw no one but his valet-masseur for several days; on
the left side of his throat the marks of Craig's fingers showed
even above the tallest of his extremely tall collars. From the
newspapers he gathered that Margaret had gone to New York on a
shopping trip--had gone for a stay of two or three weeks. When
the adventure in the garden was more than a week into the past, as
he was coming home from a dinner toward midnight he jumped from
his electric brougham into Craig's arms.
"At last!" exclaimed Josh, leading the way up the Arkwright steps
and ringing the bell. Grant muttered a curse under his breath.
When the man had opened the door, "Come in," continued Josh loudly
and cheerily, leading the way into the house.
"You'd think it was his house, by gad!" muttered Grant.
"I've been walking up and down before the entrance for an hour.
The butler asked me in, but I hate walls and roof. The open for
me--the wide, wide open!"
"Not so loud," growled Arkwright.
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