He wished you could come and see him."
"Where is he? Of course I will go."
"He is staying with Mr. Larned, my college mate's father, who lives
in Jamaica Plain, but he will not be there until this evening. He's
attending a religious conference this afternoon and goes to
Fernborough early to-morrow."
"Then I can't see him."
"Why not? I'm going out this evening--small party invited--entirely
informal--half my auto is at your service."
"Will you get me back to the hotel before the doors are closed? I
shall pack up to-morrow."
"I promise," said Quincy. "I will come for you at seven sharp."
Punctually at seven, a closed auto stopped before the "Cawthorne" and
Quincy alighted. Mary stepped from the elevator, wearing a new spring
costume and a marvellous aggregation of flowers upon her hat, walked
to the door without looking at Mr. Cass, and before he could frame
one of his employer's tenacious points and follow her, she had been
handed into the auto and whirled swiftly away.
"Is Alexander driving?" she asked. "No. He's asleep--up too late last
night. We have a strange _chauffeur_. I selected him for that
reason."
"Why, what do you mean?"
"I didn't wish anybody to know where we had gone."
"Why not, pray?"
"I mean, what we'd gone for."
"Nonsense. Why, a friendly call--what more?"
"Are your gloves on?"
"No, I didn't have time.
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