Enoch went up the
steps with Diana, however, and asked her tensely:
"Will you lunch with me to-morrow, Miss Allen, that I may explain
myself?"
"Thank you, no. I shall be very busy to-morrow, Mr. Huntingdon."
"Let me call here in the evening, then."
"I'd rather you wouldn't," answered the girl, coldly. "Good night, Mr.
Secretary," and she was gone.
Enoch stood as if struck dumb, then he made an excuse to Mr. and Mrs.
Watkins, and started homeward. The night was stifling. When Jonas let
him into the house, his collar was limp and his hair lay wet on his
forehead.
"I'm going to New York to-night, Jonas," he said huskily.
"What's happened, boss?" asked Jonas breathlessly, as he followed Enoch
up the stairs.
"Nothing! I'm going to give myself a day's rest. Give me something to
travel in," pulling off his coat.
"I'm going with you, boss," not stirring, his black eyes rolling.
"No, I'm going alone, Jonas. Here, I'll pack my own grip. You go on
out." This in a voice that sent Jonas, however reluctantly, into the
hall, where he walked aimlessly up and down, wringing his hands.
"He ain't been as bad as this in years," he muttered. "I wonder what
she did to him!"
Enoch came out of his room shortly.
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