"Shall we meet
at the--Waldorf--is it?--at luncheon time?"
"Oh, _my_, no!" exclaimed the older woman, radiant in the joy of
home coming. "It'll be lunch time in an hour. You _must_ taxi up to
Sixty-first Street with us, and just _glance_ at the house, or we shall
be _so_ hurt. Then we'll spin you down to the hotel again in no time. I
wish we could feed you at home, but nothing will be in shape there till
to-night."
There was still no chance for Annesley to ask Knight the long-delayed
question. They saw and duly admired the Waldos' house, and took another
taxi to the hotel, the Nelson Smiths' luggage having been "expressed"
to the Grand Central, to await them. Steve Waldo tried to engage his
favourite table, and Mrs. Waldo suggested that it would be a good moment
to get the reservations.
Again Annesley's startled glance turned to Knight. Again his eyes
answered with decision. This time there was no longer any doubt in the
girl's mind. The Waldos, persistent to the last, would compel her to
leave New York with her husband.
But whatever happened she would part with him forever before darkness
fell.
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