"I got to be going," he said. "So long."
Dan waited patiently for ten minutes; then he looked at his watch. What
could be keeping Nance? He whistled to Growler, who was making life
miserable for a cat in a neighboring yard, and strolled past Miss
Bobinet's door; then he returned to the corner. Bean's words had fallen
into his dream like a pebble into a tranquil pool. What business had Bean
to be remembering the way Nance walked or talked. Restlessly, Dan paced
up and down the narrow sidewalk. When he looked at his watch again, it
was five-thirty.
Only thirty more minutes in which to transact the most important
business of his life! With a gesture of impatience he strode up to Miss
Bobinet's door and rang the bell.
A wrinkled old woman, with one hand behind her ear, opened the door
grudgingly.
"Nance Molloy?" she quavered in answer to his query. "What you want
with her?"
"I'd like to speak with her a minute," said Dan.
"Are you her brother?"
"No."
"Insurance man?"
"No."
The old woman peered at him curiously.
"Who be you?" she asked.
"My name's Lewis."
"Morris?"
"No, Lewis!" shouted Dan, with a restraining hand on Growler, who was
sniffing at the strange musty odors that issued from the half-open door.
"Well, she ain't here," said the old woman. "Took herself off last
Wednesday, without a word to anybody."
"Last Wednesday!" said Dan, incredulously. "Didn't she send any word?"
"Sent for her money and said she wouldn't be back.
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