Mostyn nodded absently. "No, thanks, I'll walk home," he said, getting out of the buggy. He was turning away, but paused and looked back.
"Would you advise--" he began, hesitatingly, "would you advise me to return to Atlanta to-morrow--on--on account of this silly thing?"
Saunders hesitated. "I hardly know what to say," he answered, frankly. "Perhaps you can tell better when you have read her letter. The situation is decidedly awkward. In her present nervous condition the woman is likely to give trouble. Somehow I feel that it is nothing but your duty to all of us to do everything possible to prevent publicity. She seems to me to have a dangerous disposition. She even spoke of--of using force. In fact, she said she was armed--spoke of killing you in cold blood. You might restrain her by law, but you wouldn't want to do that."
A desperate shadow hovered over Mostyn's face. "I'll go back in the morning," he said, doggedly. "Mitchell, you say, wants to see me. I'm not afraid of the woman. If I had been there she wouldn't have made such a fool of herself."