The telegraph office fronted the head of the street which they had
ascended. "You can sit here in the apothecary's till I come down," he
said.
"Do you think that will be professionally appropriate? I am only a nurse
now."
"No, I wasn't thinking of that. But I saw a chair in there. And we can
make a pretense of wanting some soda. It is the proper thing to treat
young ladies to soda when one brings them in from the country."
"It does have that appearance," she assented, with a smile. She kept him
waiting with what would have looked like coquettish hesitation in
another, while she glanced at the windows overhead, pierced by a skein of
converging wires. "Suppose I go up with you?"
"I should like that better," he said; and she followed him lightly up the
stairs that led to the telegraph office. A young man stood at the machine
with a cigar in his mouth, and his eyes intent upon the ribbon of paper
unreeling itself before him.
"Just hold on," he said to Libby, without turning his head. "I've got
something here for you." He read: "Despatch received yesterday.
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