She's going to reveal the whole plot to Mrs. Odell-Carney just as soon
as Roxbury gives the word--treating it as a very clever and necessary
ruse, don't you see. Mrs. Odell-Carney will be implored to aid in the
deception for a few days, and she'll consent, because she's really quite
a bit of a sport. At the psychological moment the Rodneys will be told.
That places Mrs. Odell-Carney in the position of being an abettor or
accomplice: she's had the distinction of being a sharer in a most
glorious piece of strategy. Don't you see how charmingly it will all
work in the end?"
"What are you two whispering about?" demanded Freddie Ulstervelt
noisily, patience coming to an end.
"Wha--what the devil is that to--" began Brock furiously. Constance
brought him up sharp with a warning kick on the ankle. He vowed
afterward that he would carry the mark to his grave.
"He's telling me what a nice chap you are, Freddie," said she sweetly.
Brock glared out of the window. Freddie sniffed scornfully.
"I'm getting sick of this job," growled Brock under his breath. "I
didn't calculate on--"
"Now, Roxbury dear, don't be a bear," she pleaded so gently, her eyes so
full of appeal, that he flushed with sudden shame and contrition.
"Forgive me," he said, the old light coming back into his eyes so
strongly that she quivered for an instant before lowering her own. "I
hate that confounded puppy," he explained lamely, guarding his voice
with a new care.
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