THE BRASS BOWL
one was in town. At last, in desperation, I started home alone."
Maitland nodded his comprehension. "Your father?" he hinted delicately.
"Judge Wentworth," she explained hastily. "We've taken the Grover place at Greenpoint for the season."
"I see,"—thoughtfully. And this was the girl who he had believed had been in his rooms that evening, in his absence! Oh, clearly, that was impossible. Her tone rang with truth. …
She interrupted his train of thought with a cry of despair. "What will they think!"
"I dare say," he ventured hopefully, "I could hire a team at some farm-house"
"But the delay! It's so late already!"
Undeniably late: one o'clock at the earliest. A thought longer Maitland hung in lack of purpose, then without a word of explanation turned and again, began to wade out.
"What do you mean to do?" she cried, surprised.
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