His--With a swift movement he was out of the
cab and on the street and about to follow her when Carmencita touched
him on the arm.
"Let me go first. She doesn't know you're coming. We'll get a table
near the door."
The crowd separated them, but through it Carmencita wriggled her way
quickly and disappeared. Waiting, Van Landing saw her rush up to Miss
Barbour, then slip in a chair at a table whose occupants were leaving,
and motion Frances to do the same. As the tired little waitress, after
taking off the soiled cloth and putting on a fresh one, went away for
necessary equipment Van Landing opened the door and walked in and to
the table and held out his hand.
"You would not let me thank you this morning. May I thank you now
for--"
[Illustration: "YOU WOULD NOT LET ME THANK YOU THIS MORNING. MAY I
THANK YOU NOW FOR--"]
"Finding him?" Carmencita leaned halfway over the table, and her big
blue eyes looked anxiously at first one and then the other. "He was
looking for you, Miss Frances; he'd been looking all day and all night
because he'd just heard you were somewhere down here, and he's come to
have lunch with us, and--Oh, it's Christmas, Miss Frances, and please
tell him--say something, do something! He's been waiting three
years, and he can't wait another minute.
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