"Oh! where are we?" He laid his hand on hers for a moment.
"You've been asleep. We're nearly home."
He turned in at the drive of Upton House. He let her get out of the
car unassisted.
Gladys was at the door; her eyes were anxious.
"I thought you must have had an accident," she said. She caught
Christine's hand. "You're fearfully late."
"We had tea at Heston," Christine said. She ran into the house.
Kettering looked at the elder girl.
"You would not come," he said. "Don't you care for motoring?"
"No." She came down the steps and stood beside him. "Mr. Kettering,
may I say something?"
He looked faintly surprised.
"May you! Why, of course!"
"You will be angry--you will be very angry, I am afraid," she said.
"But--but I can't help it."
"Angry! What do you mean?"
There was a moment's silence, then:
"Well," said Kettering rather curtly.
She flushed, but her eyes did not fall.
"Mr. Kettering, if you are a gentleman, and I know you are, you will
never come here again," she said urgently.
A little wave of crimson surged under Kettering's brown skin, but his
eyes did not fall; there was a short silence, then he laughed--rather
mirthlessly.
"And if I am _not_ the gentleman you so very kindly seem to believe
me," he said constrainedly.
Gladys Leighton came a little closer to him; she laid her hand on his
arm.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187