"Of course," he answered at last, and turned to her with a friendly
quirk of his lips. "It is buried pretty deep one way and another, isn't
it? And it would hardly be decent to exhume the remains. Shall we talk
about the weather?"
"Don't be sarcastic," she reproved gently. "Save that to cope with dad.
He'll relish it coming from you."
"I don't know," Thompson said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind a chat with
your father. We wouldn't agree on many things, by a good way, although
I've discovered that some of his philosophy is sound enough. But I've
got to make a move, and I'm so situated that I must make it quickly or
not at all. I'm going to take the first north-bound steamer out of San
Francisco. So I don't imagine Mr. Carr will have a chance at me soon."
"Oh, yes, he will," Sophie asserted confidently. "In about twenty
minutes."
Thompson looked at her, startled a little by this bland assertion.
"We'll be home in about twenty minutes," she explained.
"But I'm--why take the trouble?" he asked bluntly. "I'm out of your
orbit entirely. Or do you want to exhibit me as a horrible example?"
"You're downright rude," she laughed. "Or you would be if you were
serious. Do you mind coming to see dad? And I'd like to hear more about
your trip across the mountains with Tommy Ashe.
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