"I couldn't be so selfish," he protested, and without another word they
started off down the road toward town.
"Do you suppose they are delaying the opera in Chicago until you come?"
she asked.
"Poor Graves! he said he'd kill me if I didn't come," said Crosby,
laughing.
"How dreadful!"
"But I'm not regretting the opera. Quive does not sing until to-morrow
night."
"I adore Quive."
"You can't possibly have an engagement for to-morrow night either," he
said reflectively.
"I don't see how I could. I expected to be on a Pullman sleeper."
"I'll come for you at 8:15 then."
"You are very good, Mr. Crosby, but I have another plan."
"I beg your pardon for presuming to--" he began, and a hot flush mounted
to his brow.
"You are to come at seven for dinner," she supplemented delightedly.
"What a nice place the seventh heaven is!" he cried warmly.
"Sh!" she whispered suddenly, and both stopped stock-still. "There is a
man with a lantern at the lower gate. See? Over yonder."
"They're after me, Mrs. Delancy," he whispered.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57