"
"So it seems!" Mrs. Cary observed, rather tartly. "He might at least
have stayed to say good-by."
"Oh, well, you know what an impulsive creature he is," Travers
apologized. "Besides, I believe he means to drop in later on. Please
don't punish me, Mrs. Cary, for his delinquencies."
The suggestion that Stafford might resume his interrupted visit later
mollified Mrs. Cary at once.
"No, you shan't suffer," she assured him, with fat motherliness. "I
will go and tell the servants about tea at once."
The minute she was out of the room Travers came over to Beatrice's
side. A slight change had taken place in his expression. It reminded
her involuntarily of that night in the dog-cart when for an instant
his passions had forced him to drop the mask.
"You and I have every reason to congratulate each other," he said, in
a low voice. "We can now go ahead and win. The road is clear for us
both."
"What do you mean--what have you done?"
"Nothing," he answered, as Mrs. Cary reentered. "You will know in a
day or two. And then--well, the game will be in our hands, Miss Cary."
Mrs. Cary, who had caught the last remark, looked quickly and
suspiciously from one to the other.
"What's that you are talking about?" she demanded. "What game is in
your hands, Beaty?"
Travers smiled frankly.
"Miss Cary and I are working out a bridge problem," he explained. "We
have just discovered a solution to a difficulty.
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