She heard him at the door, then a murmur of voices--Dale's
voice and another's--"Won't you come in for a few minutes? Oh,
thank you." She relaxed.
The door opened; it was Dale. "How lovely she looks in that evening
wrap!" thought Miss Cornelia. But how tired, too. I wish I knew
what was worrying her.
She smiled. "Aren't you back early, Dale?"
Dale threw off her wrap and stood for a moment patting back into its
smooth, smart bob, hair ruffled by the wind.
"I was tired," she said, sinking into a chair.
"Not worried about anything?" Miss Cornelia's eyes were sharp.
"No," said Dale without conviction, "but I've come here to be company
for you and I don't want to run away all the time." She picked up
the evening paper and looked at it without apparently seeing it.
Miss Cornelia heard voices in the hall--a man's voice--affable--
"How have you been, Billy?"--Billy's voice in answer, "Very well,
sir."
"Who's out there, Dale?" she queried.
Dale looked up from the paper. "Doctor Wells, darling," she said
in a listless voice. "He brought me over from the club; I asked
him to come in for a few minutes. Billy's just taking his coat."
She rose, threw the paper aside, came over and kissed Miss Cornelia
suddenly and passionately--then before Miss Cornelia, a little
startled, could return the kiss, went over and sat on the settee
by the fireplace near the door of the billiard room.
Miss Cornelia turned to her with a thousand questions on her tongue,
but before she could ask any of them, Billy was ushering in Doctor
Wells.
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