Don did not so much as look at her. He was appealing to the girl with his eyes. "Don't go," he said hoarsely. "If you—if you'll do it. If you care enough for me to let me"
Mrs. McGahn, with a sudden understanding of what he was trying to say, took him by the arm and drew him to Margaret's side. "Here!" she said, and turning from them, she marched out of the room.
IX
When she looked in again, Don was sitting on the edge of the sofa, in the dusk ; the girl was in his arms; she was crying on his shoulder. Mrs. McGahn smiled. "Well?"
Don looked around with a drawn face. "Is she back, Mrs. Richardson?"
"No, she ain't," she blustered exaggeratingly. "An' she won't be, till mornin'. I put her out o' the house, hot-foot. Persecutin' the child!"
"I told her I wouldn't go until the morning, until I had seen you," Margaret sobbed.
"That will give us plenty of time." He asked Mrs. McGahn shakily: "Do you know anyone—around here—who'll do to"
"Are yuh Cath'lics?"
"No. We're"
"Neither am I. If yuh'd been Cath'lics, I'll be danged if I know how they marry. I'm Orange meself, an' so's Dan. Who's yer min'ster?"
