"What _do_ you mean?"
Sewell was obliged to possess Miss Vane's entire ignorance of all
the facts in detail. From point to point he paused; he began really
to be afraid she would do herself an injury with her laughing.
She put her hand on his arm and bowed her head forward, with her
face buried in her handkerchief. "What--what--do you suppose-pose--
they did with the po-po-_po_em they stole from him?"
"Well, one thing I'm sure they _didn't_ do," said Sewell
bitterly. "They didn't _read_ it."
Miss Vane hid her face in her handkerchief, and then plucked it
away, and shrieked again. She stopped, with the sudden calm that
succeeds such a paroxysm, and, "Does Mrs. Sewell know all about
this?" she panted.
"She knows everything, except my finding him in the dish-washing
department of the Wayfarer's Lodge," said Sewell gloomily, "and my
coming to you."
"Why do you come to me?" asked Miss Vane, her face twitching and her
eyes brimming.
"Because," answered Sewell, "I'd rather not go to her till I have
done something."
Miss Vane gave way again, and Sewell sat regarding her ruefully.
"What do you expect me to do?" She looked at him over her
handkerchief, which she kept pressed against her mouth.
"I haven't the least idea what I expected you to do. I expected you
to tell me. You have an inventive mind.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135