After which you
would follow."
Admiration for this generalship pierced even the deep depression of
the professor.
"Does John know where she is?" pursued Aunt Caroline.
"No."
"Then she has gone home to her father. She said something the other
day which puzzled me. I can't remember just what it was but she
seemed to have some fatalistic idea, about her old life having a
hold upon her which she couldn't shake off. Pure morbidity, as I
pointed out. But she has gone back. I have a feeling that she has."
"You may be right, Aunt. It will be easy to find out. If I can make
the necessary inquiries without arousing gossip. There was nothing
in the mail--for me?"
"No. The man has just been. But there is something for Desire, an
odd looking package done up in foreign paper. I have it here."
Spence took from her hand a slim, yellowish packet, directed in the
crabbed writing of Li Ho.
"I can't make out whether it is 'Hon. Mrs. Professor Spence' or
whether the 'Mrs.' is 'Mr.' Perhaps you had better open it, Benis."
"Perhaps, later." Spence slipped the packet into his pocket. "It
'can't have anything to do with our present problem. . . . I must
make some telephone inquiries. But if Desire has gone, Aunt, we may
as well face facts. She does not want me to follow her."
"Doesn't she?" Aunt Caroline surveyed him with a pitying smile. "How
stupid men are! But go along to the library. You've had no decent
breakfast.
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