"Of course you know best," Cynthia replied, drawing in her chin with
some hauteur. "I shouldn't think of urging you."
"I'd be bully glad to come another day," reiterated Robert Morton,
fully conscious he had offended his fair guest, yet determined to stand
his ground. "Tell the affluent Roger to slide over in his racer
sometime when he has nothing better to do and get me."
"He will probably only be here for the week-end," retorted Cynthia
coldly.
"Sunday, then; why not Sunday? Mr. Spence and I do not work Sundays."
"All right, if you positively won't come to-day. But I don't see why
you can't come now and Sunday, too."
"I couldn't do it, dear lady."
"Well, Sunday then, if that is the earliest you can make it."
She smiled an adieu to Willie and Celestina, and with her little head
proudly set preceded Bob to her car. But although the great engine
throbbed and purred, it was some time before it left the gate and
flashed its way down the high road toward Belleport.
After it had gone and Bob was once more in the house, Celestina had a
score of questions with which to greet him.
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