“Yes, and a good job too,” was the fervent reply.
“How ungrateful! I’m sure they did their best to make themselves agreeable, especially to you. Confess; you are dreadfully bored now that they are gone.”
“Not in the very least. You are here—and—and—” He broke off, helpless and stuttering.
“But I shall not be much longer. I am going away too.”
He sprung to his feet as if he had been stung.
“What? You are going away? When?”
“Very soon. In a week or ten days; perhaps not quite so soon.” Already she wished she had not told him. It would have been better, for every reason, that he should have heard the news at second hand.
“In a week or ten days!” he echoed. “But not for long—Yseulte, say it will not be for long!”
If at times the girl had been guilty of a touch of feminine spitefulness in the reflection that she had completely subjugated—and through no artful intent—the hope of this family whom, not without reason, she detested, assuredly she felt sorry and ashamed of it now, as she noted the pitiable effect which her announcement produced upon her admirer. His face was as pale as death.
“But what if it will be for long?” she answered, gently. “For months, perhaps—or a year.”