Gideon Rolfe broke in abruptly.
“Where will you take her?” he asked, hoarsely.
“It is my intention,” he said, “to place her in my mother’s charge. She lives in London, alone. There my cousin will find a loving home and a second mother. Believing that you would naturally have some reluctance at parting with her, not knowing with whom and where she was going, I have brought my mother with me.”
Gideon glanced at the quiet, motionless figure seated on the bench outside, and then paced the room again.
“Does she know?” he asked hoarsely.
“She knows nothing,” said Stephen. “My mother can trust me implicitly. She has long wanted a companion, and I have told her that I know of a young girl in whom I am interested.”
“You intend to keep her secret?” said Gideon.
“Most sacredly,” responded Stephen, with solemn earnestness.
Gideon went to the door and opened it.
“Wait,” he said, and disappeared.