But Larry had seen her first. He had no
chance to take her in, that first moment, beyond noting that she was
slender and young and exquisitely gowned, for she swept straight
across to them.
"Dick, you're drunk again!" she exclaimed.
"Wrong, sis," he corrected in an injured tone. "It's same drunk."
"Dick, you go to bed!"
"Now, sis--"
"You go to bed!"
The young man wavered before her commanding gaze. "Jus's you say--
jus's you say," he mumbled, and went unsteadily toward the door.
The young woman watched him out, and then turned her troubled face
back to Larry. "I'm sorry Dick behaved to you as he did."
And then before Larry could make answer, her clouded look was gone.
"So you're here at last, Mr. Brainard." She held her hand out, smiling
a smile that by some magic seemed to envelop him within an immediate
friendship.
"I'm Miss Sherwood." He noted that the slender, tapering hand had
almost a man's strength of grip. "You needn't tell me anything about
yourself," she added, "for I already know a lot--all I need to know:
about you--and about Maggie Carlisle. You see an hour ago a messenger
brought me a long letter he'd written about you." And she nodded to
the photograph Larry was still holding.
"You--you know him?" Larry stammered.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127