“There comes Dick,” she whispered.  “I must do my best to hold myself together.  Good-bye, Larry.”

A minute later, Larry just behind her, she was crossing the lawn on Dick’s arm, explaining her weakness and pallor by the sudden dizziness which had come upon her in consequence of not eating and of being in the hot sun.

CHAPTER XXXI

Larry was far more deeply moved this time when Maggie drove away with Dick than on that former occasion when he had tried to play with adroitness upon her psychological reactions.  Now he knew that her very world was shaken; that her soul was stunned and reeling; that she was fighting with all her strength for a brief outward composure.

He had loved her for months, but he had never so loved her as in this hour when all her artificial defenses had been battered down and she had been just a bewildered, agonized girl, with just the emotions and first thoughts that any other normal girl would have had under the same circumstances.  His great desire had been to be with her, to comfort her, help her; but he realized that she had been correct in her instinct to be by herself for a while, to try to comprehend it all, to try to think her way out.

When Maggie was out of sight he excused himself from having tea, left Hunt and Miss Sherwood upon the veranda, and sought his study.  But though he had neglected his work the whole day, he now gave it no attention.  He sat at his desk and thought of Maggie:  tried to think of what she was going to do.  Her situation was so complicated with big elements which she would have to handle that he could not foretell just what her course would be.  It was a terrific situation for a young woman, who was after all just a very young girl, to face alone.  But there was nothing for him but to wait for news from her.  And she had not said even that she would ever let him hear.

While he considered these matters he had risen and paced the room.  Once he had paused at a French window which opened upon a side veranda, and had seen below him a few yards away Joe Ellison, whose interest in his flowers had established his workday from sunrise to sunset.  Joe Ellison had been pulling tiny weeds that were daring to attempt to get a start in a rose-garden.  Larry’s mind had halted a moment upon Joe.  Here at least was a contented man:  one who, no matter what happened, would remain in ignorance of possibly great events which would intimately concern him.  Then Larry had left the window and had returned to his thoughts of Maggie.

But Larry’s thoughts were not to remain exclusively with Maggie for long.  Shortly after six Judkins entered and announced that a man was at the door with a message.  The man had refused to come in, saying he was only a messenger and was in a hurry; and had refused to give Judkins the message, saying that it was verbal.  Thinking that some word had come from his grandmother, or possibly even from Maggie, Larry went out upon the veranda.  Waiting for him was a nondescript man he did not know.