She brushed them angrily away. Struggling to
control herself, presently she grew quieter. Frowning, with her clear gray
eyes intently staring before her, she did not see her father come into the
doorway. He stopped with a jerk at sight of her face.
"What's the matter?" he asked. She started.
"Nothing's the matter! How is Bruce?"
"I don't know. Who went out a few minutes ago?"
"Allan Baird," she answered.
"Oh. You explained to him, of course, about Lake--"
"Yes, he understands," she said. "He won't come here after this--"
Roger looked at her sharply, wondering just what she meant. He hesitated.
No, he would wait.
"Good-night," he said, and went upstairs.
CHAPTER XXXVI
On the morrow Bruce did not grow better. If anything, the child grew worse.
But by the next morning the crisis had passed. In the house the tension
relaxed, and Roger suddenly felt so weak that he went to see his own
physician. They had a long and serious talk. Later he went to his office,
but he gave little heed to his work. Sitting there at his desk, he stared
through the window far out over the city. A plan was forming in his mind.
At home that night, at dinner, he kept watching Deborah, who looked tired
and pale and rather relaxed. And as soon as she was out of the house he
telephoned Allan to come at once.
"It's something which can't wait," he urged.
"Very well, I'll come right up."
When Baird arrived a little later, Roger opened the door himself, and they
went back into his study.
Pages:
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307