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Patricia gasped, and in the moment's silence that fell she gave the promising authoress a little shake. She said good-night absently, and Patricia, watching her hurry down the frosty street, found herself wondering at the subtle barrier that she could feel so keenly, while she yet tried to disbelieve. "But David confessed himself guilty, to save her?".
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She came and stood behind Patricia, her hands on her shoulders, eager and interested. Disturbed by the unexpected appearance of David, and seeing from his expression that he was bent upon making himself disagreeable, Jen hastily interposed to prevent a quarrel between the two young men. "Mrs. Dallas?" cried David, starting from his seat. "Did she steal the devil-stick?" "I'm always making mountains out of mole-hills, and having you level them for me, Norn," she said, taking a glass of sherbet from the flower-wreathed tray of the charming slave. "I wish I wasn't such an alarmist. I felt as frantic as though Doris Leighton had drawn a dagger, and now I can see what a goose I am.".
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