Dawn was streaking the east when he spoke to her.
"Edith, it is growing light."
"Take me home," she said.
Henderson helped her up the steps and rang the bell.
"Miss Carr is ill," he said to the footman. "Arouse her maid instantly,
and have her prepare something hot as quickly as possible."
"Edith," he cried, "just a word. I have been thinking. It isn't too late
yet. Take your ring and put it on. I will go find Phil at once and tell
him you have, that you are expecting him, and he will come."
"Think what he said!" she cried. "He accepted my decision as final, 'in
the presence of witnesses,' as if it were court. He can return it to me,
if I ever wear it again."
"You think that now, but in a few days you will find that you feel very
differently. Living a life of heartache is no joke, and no job for a
woman. Put on your ring and send me to tell him to come."
"No."
"Edith, there was not a soul who saw that, but sympathized with Phil.
It was ridiculous for you to get so angry over a thing which was never
intended for the slightest offence, and by no logical reasoning could
have been so considered."
"Do you think that?" she demanded.
"I do!" said Henderson. "If you had laughed and stepped aside an
instant, or laughed and stayed where you were, Phil would have been
back; or, if he needed punishment in your eyes, to have found me having
one of his dances would have been enough. I was waiting.
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