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Now Mrs. Dallas was secretly afraid of Etwald, as she had received hints from Dido, in whose truth she implicitly believed--that the doctor knew more about secret things than most people. She dreaded lest his visit should portend harm, and so, in some trepidation, she waited for him to speak. But Etwald, guessing her frame of mind, took his time and it was only when Isabella approached with some tea for her mother that he broke the silence. "That's so," admitted Patricia readily. "You always hit the nail on the head, old lady. Now I must run. See you later," and closing the door behind her, she ran down the steps and hurried off through the tingling morning air, with her parcel tight under her arm and a kindling light on her mobile face. "The Voodoo stone," echoed Jen, much puzzled. "And what may that be?".
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"I like it better than the land of the Amorites and the Hittites," she responded so promptly that the other gaped. "Why no, Mr. Maurice, I can't say as I did." There was a silence that made the next question come with more insulting force, while Patricia again wondered why Elinor did not seize this moment for her broadside of bonbons. "You aren't going to bring her here?" she queried, a faint flush of shame at the selfishness of her speech creeping into her cheeks..
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