Before she had covered a quarter of a mile of the dusty road, Ellen
heard the muffled roar of an over-taking motor car. She glanced up,
startled and half choked with the enveloping cloud of dust. Jim Dodge
was driving the car. He slowed down and stopped.
"Hello, Ellen. Going down to the village? Get in and I'll take you
along," he called out.
"All right," said Ellen, jumping in.
"I haven't seen you for an age, Jim," said Ellen after awhile.
The young man laughed. "Does it seem that long to you, Ellen?"
"No, why should it?" she returned.
"I say, Ellen," said Jim, "I saw you when you came out of Bolton
House just now."
"Did you?"
"Yes." He looked sharply at Ellen, who smiled evasively.
"I was going to call," she said with an innocent air, "but Miss Orr
had--a visitor."
"Look here, Ellen; don't let's beat about the bush. Nobody knows he's
there, yet, except myself and--you. You met him on the road; didn't
you?"
"Yes," said Ellen, "I met him on the road."
"Did he talk to you?"
"He asked me what my name was. He's crazy, isn't he, Jim?"
The young man frowned thoughtfully at his steering wheel.
"Not exactly," he said, after a pause. "He's been sick a long time
and his mind is--well, I think it has been somewhat affected. Did
he-- He didn't talk to you about himself, did he?"
"What do you want to know for?"
"Oh, he appeared rather excited, and--"
"Yes; I noticed that." She laughed mischievously.
Jim frowned.
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