"And please, there's the money I owe you, and -- and -- I
thank you -- and goodbye." She turned and almost ran from him
toward the door to the hall.
"Stop!" cried Winthrop.
Poised for flight, the girl halted, and looked back.
"When can I see you again?" said the man. The tone made it less
a question than a command.
In a manner as determined as his own, the girl shook her head.
"No!" she said.
"I must!" returned the man.
Again the girl shook her head, definitely, finally.
"It won't help you in your work," she pleaded, "to come to see
me."
"I must!" repeated Winthrop simply.
The eyes of the girl met his, appealingly, defiantly.
"You'll be sorry," said the girl.
Winthrop laughed an eager, boyish laugh. When he spoke the
tenseness in his voice had gone. His tone was confident,
bantering.
"Then I will not come to see you," he said.
Uncertain, puzzled, Vera looked at him in distress. She thought
he was mocking her.
"No?" she questioned.
"I'll come to see Vera, the medium," he explained.
Vera frowned, and then, in happy embarrassment, smiled
wistfully.
"Oh, well," she stammered; "of course, if you're coming to
consult me professionally -- my hours are from four to six."
"I'll be there," cried the District Attorney.
Vera leaned forward eagerly.
"What day will you come?" she demanded.
"What day!" exclaimed the young man indignantly. "Why, this
day!"
Vera gave a guilty, frightened laugh.
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