“What do you mean by this?” asked Aimée, indignantly—Mrs. Shreve having withdrawn in search of Mrs. Berrien. “I do not know why you should speak to me in such a manner because you find a visitor—”
“A visitor!” interrupted the other, angrily. “Do your visitors usually leave such cards as that?”
He pointed, as he spoke, to the locket which Aimée had forgotten that she still held in her hand. She now thrust it hastily into her pocket; but, though her face crimsoned, she still regarded him with dauntless eyes.
“It is no affair of yours,” she said. “I am not called upon to give you any explanation. I am here under Aunt Alice’s care.”
“An admirable care it seems to be,” said he, sarcastically. “It is fortunate that I have come to take you out of her hands.”
“I can not understand why any one should have thought it necessary to send you,” said Aimée. “It is a new thing that what I do should be considered of importance by any one.”
Then there was a moment’s silence. It was impossible for Mr. Percy Joscelyn—which was this young gentleman’s name—to deny that it was indeed a very new thing for Aimée’s actions to be of importance in the opinion of her family. Her repeated assertion that it did not matter to any one what she did was founded on most undeniable fact, or had been a short time before. And if all was changed now, if her actions had suddenly become of very great importance, it was for a reason difficult to state when thus confronted with what yesterday had been the truth.
Fortunately, a diversion occurred at this point which relieved him from the inconvenience of answering her remark. The door opened and Mrs. Berrien entered.
“Why, Percy, how do you do?” she said. “This is a great surprise.”