Lucky for him he didn’t know her object, or see the sword suspended over
his head. He had enough trouble as it was, poor fellow. When he got
home, there was his eagerly expected letter from Frankie.
“My dear Lionel,” she wrote, “I see that you have evidently changed your
mind, and that you consider our former plan wild and impracticable. No
doubt you are right; at any rate I shan’t urge you or try to influence
you. I am sure that anyone as prudent and cautious as you will get on in
the world. I hope so, sincerely. Please look upon yourself as not bound
in any way.
“Always your friend,
“FRANCES DEFOE.”
He knew the answer to that letter--to take the first train, to hurry to
her and take her in his arms, to tell her how he had longed for her and
missed her. He read her hurt in every word, and it made him desperate.
He swore to himself that somewhere and somehow he would get the money to
go at once and marry her. Then he didn’t care what happened, even if
they had to be separated, even if Frankie stayed with her grandmother
for months while he tried to find work. He knew, absolutely _knew_, that
there was no time to be lost.
He went off at once to Horace, but Horace and Julie had gone on a motor
trip for ten days. Then he took a bold step. He telephoned to Minnie.
Her pleasant, troubled voice answered the telephone.
“Miss Defoe,” he said, “I need five dollars more, badly. Will you----?”
“Wait!” she answered, and after a pause, in a lower voice, “At the same
corner--at five.”