“But he found Margaret standing in the hall hatted and cloaked, her little, shabby suitcase on the floor by her side and Mrs. Harris just coming from the dining room with a neat box in one hand and a thermos bottle in the other. “It’s just a few chicken sandwiches and a cup of coffee,” she said as she extended the two to Greg. “I thought they might come in handy before you get there, for you know she scarcely ate a bite of breakfast. Just drank some orange juice and took one bite of toast.” “You...’re not sick, are you, Miss McLaren?” he asked anxiously. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to start quite so early.” “No, I’m not one bit sick, Mr. Sterling,” she declared. “I’m just so excited about going home, I couldn’t swallow, that’s all. I tried not to disturb Mrs. Harris. I begged her not to get up at all. I could easily have found something myself, but when I stole carefully downstairs, I found her here before me.” Greg grinned.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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