“It’s a good way to see the world,” said Rosalie, without enthusiasm.
“Yes; and ain’t it a beautiful one out here? Is that what you did it for, Rosalie?”
“Partly—not exactly. I was getting away from Loomis.”
Betsy nodded. “I heard he pestered you.”
Rosalie looked off reminiscently. “I didn’t tell Auntie Pogram, because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings; but the reason Loomis began being so unkind to me was because I wouldn’t marry him.”
“I suspected as much,” said Betsy.
“So long as he was Auntie Pogram’s brother I knew there was no hope of escaping him if I stayed there, and so—I ran away. It was selfish. My conscience has never felt easy; but I couldn’t endure his insults.”
“I suppose not,” returned Betsy. Her tone was quiet, but there were sparks in her usually inexpressive eyes, and had Loomis Brown suddenly appeared it might have gone ill with his rapidly thinning hair.
“What did you do? How did you manage to get so far from home?” continued Betsy.