Honoria 'phoned me a little spell ago
that she and Patricia would be driving down after their dinner to take
in the Weatherford reception. You'll have to miss 'em, won't you?"
The announcer was chanting the call for the night train west, and the
joint-debater got up and thrust his hand-bag savagely into the hand of
the nearest porter.
"Isn't that just my infernal luck!" he lamented. Then: "Give them my
love, and tell them I hope they will stay until I get back."
The senator rose and shook hands with the departing debater. "Shall I
say that to both of 'em?" he asked, with the quizzical smile which Evan
was learning to expect.
"Yes; to both of them, if you like--only I suppose Mrs. Blount will hold
it against me. Good-night and good-by. I'll be back day after to-morrow,
if the Ophir miners don't mob me."
It was only a few minutes after Evan Blount's train had steamed
Ophir-ward out of the Sierra Avenue station that a dust-covered
touring-car drew up at the curb in front of the Inter-Mountain, and the
same porter who had put Blount's hand-bag into the taxicab opened the
tonneau door for two ladies in muffling motor-coats and heavy veils.
The senator met the two late travellers in the vestibule, and while the
three were waiting for an elevator a rapid fire of low-toned question
and answer passed between husband and wife.
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