"The only thing
that worries me now is that broken French window," she said
thoughtfully. "Anyone can reach a hand through it and open the
latch." She came down toward the settee where Dale was sitting.
"Please, Doctor!"
"Oh--what are you going to do?" said the Doctor, coming out of a
brown study.
"I'm going to barricade that window!" said Miss Cornelia firmly,
already struggling to lift one end of the settee. But now Dale
came to her rescue.
"Oh, darling, you'll hurt yourself. Let me--" and between them,
the Doctor and Dale moved the heavy settee along until it stood
in front of the window in question.
The Doctor stood up when the dusty task was finished, wiping his
hands.
"It would take a furniture mover to get in there now!" he said
airily.
Miss Cornelia smiled.
"Well, Doctor--I'll say good night now--and thank you very much,"
she said, extending her hand to the Doctor, who bowed over it
silently. "Don't keep this young lady up too late; she looks tired."
She flashed a look at Dale who stood staring out at the night.
"I'll only smoke a cigarette," promised the Doctor. Once again his
voice had a note of plea in it. "You won't change your mind?" he
asked anew.
Miss Van Gorder's smile was obdurate. "I have a great deal of mind,"
she said. "It takes a long time to change it."
Then, having exercised her feminine privilege of the last word, she
sailed out of the room, still smiling, and closed the door behind
her.
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