They were tear-stains; Lynda, who so joyously put her heart and soul in
the ideals for other homes, had wept over the nursery of another woman's
child!
For some reason Truedale was that day particularly open to impression.
As he sat with the toy-like emblems before him, the holiest and
strongest things of life seized upon him with terrific meaning. He drew
out his watch and saw that it was the dinner hour and the still house
proved that the mistress was yet absent.
"There is only one person to whom she would go," he murmured. "I'll go
to Betty's and bring Lynda home."
He made an explanation to Thomas that covered the situation.
"I found what the trouble was, Thomas," he said. "It will be all right
when we get back. But don't keep dinner."
He took a cab to Brace's. He was too distraught to put himself on
exhibition in a public conveyance. Brace sat in lonely but apparently
contented state at the head of his table.
"Bully for you, old man," he greeted. "You were never more welcome. I'll
have a plate put on for you at once. What's the matter? You look--"
"Ken, where's Betty?"
"Run away to herself, Con. Went yesterday. Goes less and less often, but
she cut yesterday."
"Has--has Lynda been here to-day?"
"Yes. About three. When she found Betty gone, she wouldn't stay. Sit
down, old man. You'll learn, as I have, to appreciate Lyn more if she
isn't always where we men have thought women ought to be.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253