For he was a conservative, fastidious aristocrat, and
though Azalea's rough edges had been rubbed down a bit by Patty's
training, she was still of a very different type from the Van Reypen
stock.
But they both loved the open, and they strode along, chatting or silent
as fitted their mood.
"What's in your mind just now, Brownie?" he asked, as Azalea looked
thoughtful.
"Why,--a queer sort of a notion. Did you ever have a premonition,--a
sort of feeling that you ought to do something--"
"A hunch?"
"Yes; a presentiment that unless you do what you're told to do, there'll
be trouble--"
"Who told you?"
"That's just it. Nobody,--except a--oh, a mysterious force, a--just
an impulse, you know."
"Obey it if you like. May I go, too?"
"Well, it's this. Just before we turned that last corner a motor passed
us, you know."
"Yes, I saw it. One of Farnsworth's,--with some of the servants in it."
"It was. Patty gives them rides in turn. Now, Winnie the nurse was in,
and so it must be her Sunday out. And, of course, Patty is home there
with the baby,--she never leaves her if Winnie's away, but still--I feel
as if I must go home to look after that child!"
"Is that all? Let's go, then. We can walk back as well as to go on."
"But,--don't laugh, now,--I feel we ought to hurry. Let's take the
trolley-car,--it isn't far to the line."
"You sure have got a hunch! But your will is my law.
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