Mr. Evringham smoothed his mustache. “She has plenty to spare,” he returned.
“She says,” went on Eloise, “that everything that isn't love is hate; and hate, of course, in her category is unreal. It is because I want the real things, because I long for real things, for truth, that I asked to have this talk, grandfather, and I wanted to be quite alone with you, so I thought of this way.”
“It's the mater she's running away from, then,” reflected her companion. He nodded courteously. “I am at your disposal,” he returned.
Subtly the broker's feeling toward Eloise had been changing since the evening in which Jewel wrote to her parents. His hard and fast opinion of her had been slightly shaken. The frankness of her remarks on Christian Science in the presence of Dr. Ballard the other evening had been a surprise to him. The cold, proud, noncommittal, ease-loving girl who in his opinion had decided to marry the young doctor was either less designing than he had believed, or else wonderfully certain of her own power to hold him. He found himself regarding her with new interest.
“I've been waiting for mother to talk with you,” she went on, “and clear up our position; but she does not, and so I must.” The speaker's hands were tightly clasped in her lap. “I wish I had Jewel's unconsciousness, her certainty that all is Good, for I feel—I feel shame before you, grandfather.”
It seemed to Mr. Evringham that Jewel's eyes were appealing to him.
“She says,” he returned with a rather grim smile, “Jewel avers that I am kindness itself inside. Let us admit it for convenience now, and see if you can't speak freely.”
“Thank you. You know what I am ashamed of: staying here so long; imposing upon you; taking everything for granted when we have no right. I want to understand our affairs; to know if we have anything, and what it is; to have you help me, you; to have you tell me how we can live independently, and help me to make mother agree to it. Oh, if you would—if you could be my friend, grandfather. I need you so!”
Mr. Evringham received this impetuous outburst without change of countenance. “How about Ballard?” he said. “I thought he was going to settle all this.”
There was silence in the brougham. The flash of hurt in the girl's eyes was quenched by quick tears. Her companion reddened under the look of surprise she bent upon him, her lovely lips unsteady.