'Good-night.' I don't see why—on her birthday, of all evenings—I should omit it."
"Well, then, bid her 'Good-night' for me too." She was halfway down the slope; Paul went in the same direction, puffing his cigarette hard. Then, stopping short, "Tony puts him up?" he abruptly asked.
"Mr. Vidal? So it appears."
He gazed a little, blowing his smoke, at this appearance. "And she has gone over to see him?"
"That may be a part of her errand."
He hesitated again. "They can't have lost much time!"
"Very little indeed."
Jean went on again; but again he checked her with a question. "What has he, what has the matter you speak of, to do with her cutting in———?" He paused as if in the presence of things painfully obscure.
"To the interest others take in the child? Ah," said Jean, "if you feel as you do"—she hesitated—"don't ask me. Ask her!"
She went her way, and, standing there in thought,
