"It _is_ too bad to disappoint her," he found himself saying, matching
the little lady's low tone. "If I wasn't so terribly busy--"
"I know; and just now, with the election so near, you must be busier
than ever. I suppose I shall have to explain to Patricia, and it hurts
me, when she is going home so soon."
"Going home?" echoed the victim.
"Yes; in a few days now. The professor has already overstayed his leave
of absence, so he says."
Blount clenched a figurative fist and shook it savagely at an unkind
fate. Nevertheless, he fell.
"If you can shift your responsibility to my shoulders, Mrs. Blount--" he
began, but she would not let him finish.
"Oh! that is _so_ good of you, Evan. Take the little car, and be sure to
ask the garage man to put in new batteries. The magneto isn't working
very well. And be here by half past one if you can. The parade is at
half past two, you know."
Under other conditions the railroad company's "social secretary," as
the society editors of the capital were still calling him, might have
had a joyous half-holiday. The autumn afternoon was picture-fine, the
little car ran well, and Patricia's mood was tempered with the gayety
which strives to extract the final thrill of enjoyment out of the
closing days of a delightful vacation. Blount was grateful for the
light-hearted mood.
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