"When did you come up?" Good Indian asked her, trying so hard to
keep a placating note out of his voice that he made himself sound
apologetic.
"Oh--about an hour ago, I think," Evadna drawled sweetly--the
sweet tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman.
Good Indian bit his lip, got up, and threw his cigarette out of
the window, and looked at her reproachfully, and felt vaguely
that he was misunderstood and most unjustly placed upon the
defensive.
"I only came over," Evadna went on, as sweetly as before, "to say
that there's a package at the store which I can't very well
carry, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind taking it--when
you go."
"I'm going now, if you're ready," he told her shortly, and
reached for his hat.
Evadna rocked a moment longer, making him wait for her reply.
She glanced at Miss Georgie still busy at the telegraph table,
gave a little sigh of resignation, and rose with evident
reluctance.
"Oh--if you're really going," she drawled, and followed him
outside.
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