"Hello, there!" It was Penny's friendly voice, hailing him from the
topmost landing of the steep stairs. "All winded, poor thing?"
His tired, unhappy eyes drank her in--the freshness and sweetness of a
domestic Penny, so different from the thorny little office Penny who
prided herself on her efficiency as secretary to the district
attorney.... Penny in flowered voile, with a saucy, ruffled white
apron.... But there were purplish shadows under her brown eyes, and her
gayety lasted only until he had reached her side.
"Sh-h-h!--Have they found Ralph?" she whispered anxiously.
He could only answer "No," and he almost choked on the word.
"Mother's all of a twitter at my having a detective to dinner," she
whispered, trying to be gay again. "She fancies you'll be wearing size
11 shoes and a 'six-shooter' at your belt--Yes, Mother! It's Mr.
Dundee!"
She did not look "all of a twitter," this pretty but rather faded
middle-aged little mother of Penny's. A gentle dignity and patient
sadness, which Dundee was sure were habitual to her, lay in the faded
blue eyes and upon the soft, sweet mouth....
But Mrs. Crain was ushering him into the living room, and its charm made
him forget for the moment that the Crains were to be pitied, because of
their "come-down" in life.
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