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think as I do. May I see Pamela before I go I don’t want to take up more of your time than necessary; you have been very generous with me———”
The interview closed automatically. Tony had just time to kiss Pamela (that was an unhurried performance) and to whisper a word or two.
“I don’t know if she trusts me or not, but at any rate she did not get the chance to say much. She’s been very good to you, but I can’t forgive her for doubting—(though it was natural enough)” he said under his breath.
“She was kind.”
“Who wouldn’t be? Well, till the next time, sweetest—till to-morrow, if Attwood’s kind too.”
They took their passage to England on the Malwa. And about that time there came to Alison Straine in Philadelphia a cablegram of four words. “Married Pamela this morning.” Tony had laughed aloud when he sent that—picturing Alison’s face.
“And it will be quite a long time before she gets your letter ‘explaining,’” said Pamela at his elbow.
“Four weeks yet. . . . Poor Alison!”