If I had to sit and wait for each day to bring what it would, I believe
I'd go clean mad."
A maid interrupted these self-communings to say that some one had called
her over the telephone, and Stella went down to the library. She wasn't
prepared for the voice that came over the line, but she recognized it
instantly as Fyfe's.
"Listen, Stella," he said. "I'm sorry this has happened, but I can't
very well avoid it now, without causing comment. I had no choice about
coming to Vancouver. It was a business matter I couldn't neglect. And as
luck would have it, Abbey ran into me as I got off the train. On account
of your being there, of course, he insisted that I come out for dinner.
It'll look queer if I don't, as I can't possibly get a return train for
the Springs before nine-thirty this evening. I accepted without
stuttering rather than leave any chance for the impression that I wanted
to avoid you. Now, here's how I propose to fix it. I'll come out about
two-thirty and pay a hurry-up five-minute call. Then I'll excuse myself
to Mrs. Abbey for inability to join them at dinner--press of important
business takes me to Victoria and so forth. That'll satisfy the
conventions and let us both out. I called you so you won't be taken by
surprise. Do you mind?"
"Of course not," she answered instantly. "Why should I?"
There was a momentary silence.
"Well," he said at last, "I didn't know how you'd feel about it. Anyway,
it will only be for a few minutes, and it's unlikely to happen again.
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