"
There were no more tears. She sat strong, elate, her head held high, her
hands folded calmly on the crape pleats of the black gown she wore for
the child's sake, ready to wait the evening through. But there was a
prompt response. When the telephone-bell jarred out suddenly in the dim
stillness of the hall, Gladys sprang up with a sharp cry, her hands to
her ears, as if to shut out the sound. But Lillian ran lightly out of the
room, and the two heard in wonder the sure vibrations of her clear
composed accents. "Yes, Long Distance, this is Mrs. Royston." Then
suddenly her tones were pervaded with embarrassment: "Oh, Mr. _John_
Bayne.... Oh, the father of Mr. Julian Bayne.... No, no, no commands....
Thank you very much. Only the present address of Mr. Julian Bayne."
Once more the two in the library exchanged a glance expressive of more
than either would have been willing to put into words. For there was a
very definite interval of delay at the telephone, and it would need no
sorcerer to divine that the father might deem that this lady, who had so
signally befooled his son heretofore, had no beneficent concern to serve
with his address.
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