“But keep this,” he said, “I know she would have wished it.”
Flossy yielded then. She took hold of Arthur’s hand and squeezed it hard, but she could not speak of her own grief in the presence of his; and he soon moved away, as if he had done what he wanted to do and was indifferent to anything else.
“Flossy,” whispered Frederica, “come out with me. Oh,” she continued, as they came into the garden, “I shall be so glad to go to Bournemouth. It is dreadful here. Only I can’t think what we shall do with Arthur—Aunt Lily and I. He likes best to be with Jem, or quite alone.”
“Mary told us how beautifully he behaves.”
“Oh, yes; but it is so difficult to know what he likes. Hugh, there’s Hugh!”
Taken utterly by surprise Flossy started, with a half-shrinking movement, and, though she recovered herself in a moment and held out her hand, Hugh turned away as if he had not meant to be seen, and was gone at once.
“There!” cried Frederica, passionately; “You feel it too! They may say what they like. I hate him, and so does George; and I wish he would go away and never come back!”
“That is not right, Freddie. I ought not to have started—it must be worst of all for him.”
“I don’t believe it! I know just how it was; Hugh is so conceited, and so interfering! He ought to be sorry and to know we all hate the sight of him.”
Frederica’s intolerant girlish harshness gave Flossy a shock.