"I think I'm tired," said Bettina, as she dropped into the chair, and Justin, the much sought after Justin, looked at her with chagrin.
"Are you tired of me?" he asked in an injured voice.
She shook her head. "No--but it's been an exciting day."
Somewhere back in the house the telephone rang, and presently Delia came out for the doctor. "You're wanted at the Neck, sir," she said; "it's the old gentleman with the pneumonia."
As Anthony went to answer the call, the other guests said their farewells.
Justin reproached Bettina. "You haven't been a bit good to me; if I come again will you talk to me?"
Bettina smiled. "I'll let you talk to me."
She turned to Sophie. "When shall I let him come?"
"He'll see you to-morrow on Bobbie's boat," said Sophie; "he wants us for lunch----"
"Till to-morrow, then," said Justin, and bent over her hand; then he ran down the porch steps to Sara, who was waiting with her head held high.
When Anthony came back from the telephone Bettina said, mournfully, "Now you must go, and I haven't talked to you for a single minute."
He looked down into the wistful face, and hesitated, then he asked, "Would you like to ride with me over to the Neck? It won't take long, but you'd have time to tell me all about your beautiful day."
"Take my cloak," said Sophie; "the long black one; it's warmer, and the air is cool."
Diana, returning from a conference with Delia, asked, "Where's Betty?"
"But, Sophie, what will people say--at this hour?"
"I told her to wear my black cloak," said Sophie; "it's less conspicuous, and she was so eager."
Diana stood very still in the darkness. How she coveted the intimacy of the little car! She had ridden so often with Anthony, and he never talked so well as when driving; he never revealed so fully the depth and fineness of his great nature. Would he reveal himself to Bettina? Would he? And was she shut out from his life forever?
She went up-stairs slowly. "You wait for them, Sophie," she said. "I'm tired--it's been a hard day----"
"Poor dear." Sophie stood looking up at her from the foot of the stairs. "I'll come up and rub your head presently."
"It isn't my head," Diana answered over her shoulder.
"Poor dear," said Sophie again, softly, and saw with anxious eyes the droop of the ascending figure in the white gown.