He knew that the crisis in his affairs was at hand.
She had asked him to come. He had not given up hope. He was still
confident of his power to win in spite of her amazing perversity.
Inconsistency, he called it. Of one thing he was resolved: he would
brook no delay. She would have to marry him at once. He wanted to
get away from Windomville as soon as possible. He loathed the place.
Hilda came to the door.
"Miss Crown is over at Mr. Vick's," she announced. "She's not at
home."
He stiffened. "I had an appointment with her for this evening,
Hilda. She must be at home."
"She ain't," said the maid succinctly.
"Did she leave any word for me?"
"Not with me, sir. She telephoned to Mrs. Strong this evening to
say she was going to stay with Mrs. Vick."
"All night?"
"No, sir. The car's going down to meet her at the ferry about ten
o'clock."
He departed in a very unpleasant frame of mind. This was laying it
on a bit thick, he complained. If she thought she could treat him
in this cavalier fashion she'd soon find out where she "got off."
What business had she, anyhow, over at the Vicks? All the old women
in the neighbourhood would be there to--An idea struck him suddenly.
"I'll do it," he muttered. "I'll have to go over some time, so why
not now? It's the decent thing to do. I'll go tonight."
He hurried up to his room.
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