So I'm going to run away.
I simply can't stay and..."
"Told Gail! Ridiculous!" cried Phyllis. "Unless ... unless----"
"Unless there was some understanding between them before and John
was simply overchivalrous when he helped me," Joy finished steadily.
"Yes, that's the only answer.... I'm going. Please don't forget me."
"You foolish child!"
"There's another reason," Joy added. "Clarence proposed last night.
I'd be almost sure to say 'yes' to save my face about the other
thing, if I stayed, and I might have to marry him if I did.... Queer
that Clarence, that I and everybody knew was just a plain flirt,
should really want to, and John not!" she added absently. "Good-by."
She was off the couch and had hurried out of doors, where Phyllis,
half-clad as she was, could not follow her.
Phyllis rose and went to the door, but the little slim brown figure
was already going swiftly toward the station, her suitcase swinging
in her hand.
It occurred to Phyllis as she walked over to the telephone that
usually crises found her clad in a blue negligee of some sort. Then
she got Dr. Hewitt's number.
"Is that you, John Hewitt?" she called. "Come over to this house
this moment! ... Yes, something serious _has_ happened. And
don't ask for Allan--ask for me. I'll be on the porch waiting for
you if I can. If not, stay there and wait for me. This is
private--and--yes, about Joy! Come!"
Joy got the train with a desolately long interval of waiting at the
station.
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