XVIII
SHE wrote Garvey asking an appointment. The reply should have
come the next day or the next day but one at the farthest; for
Garvey had been trained by Brent to the supreme courtesy of
promptness. It did not come until the fourth day; before she
opened it Susan knew about what she would read--the stupidly
obvious attempt to put off facing her--the cowardice of a
kind-hearted, weak fellow. She really had her answer--was
left without a doubt for hope to perch upon. But she wrote
again, insisting so sharply that he came the following day.
His large, tell-tale face was a restatement of what she had
read in his delay and between the lines of his note. He was
effusively friendly with a sort of mortuary suggestion, like
one bearing condolences, that tickled her sense of humor, far
though her heart was from mirth.
"Something has happened," began she, "that makes it necessary
for me to know when Mr. Brent is coming back."
"Really, Mrs. Spencer----"
"Miss Lenox," she corrected.
"Yes--Miss Lenox, I beg your pardon. But really--in my
position--I know nothing of Mr. Brent's plans--and if I did,
I'd not be at liberty to speak of them. I have written him
what you wrote me about the check--and--and--that is all."
"Mr. Garvey, is he ever--has he----" Susan, desperate, burst
out with more than she intended to say: "I care nothing about
it, one way or the other.
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