"I--I have been," she stammered, trying to regain control of her
faculties. "It's--it's that--and my not eating--and standing in this
hot sun. Thank you very much for what you've told me. I'd--I'd better
be getting back."
"I'll help you." And very gently, with a firm hand under one arm, he
escorted her to the bench where Larry sat scribbling nothings. He then
raised his hat and returned to his dahlias.
"Well?" queried Larry when they were alone.
"I can't stand it to stay here and talk to these people," she replied
in an agonized whisper. "I must get away from here quick, so that I
can think."
"May I come with you?"
"No, Larry--I must be alone. Please, Larry, please get into the house,
and manage to fake a telephone message for me, calling me back to New
York at once."
"All right." And Larry hurried away. She sat, pale, breathing rapidly,
her whole being clenched, staring fixedly out at the Sound. Five
minutes later Larry was back.
"It's all arranged, Maggie. I've told the people; they're sorry you've
got to go. And Dick is getting his car ready."
She turned her eyes upon him. He had never seen in them such a look.
They were feverish, with a dazed, affrighted horror. She clutched his
arm.
"You must promise never to tell my father about me!"
"I won't.
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