“Who wouldn’t be happy holding Mr. Stanwood’s hand?”
Janet giggled. “Yes, ain’t he awful handsome?—and now he’ll be the biggest catch in Farrandale; but I guess there won’t any o’ the girls have a chance when you’re around, Mrs. Lumbard.”
Janet’s head fell to one side in sentimental admiration as she regarded Adèle.
The latter smiled and nodded at her: “You’d better run along, Janet.”
The maid disappeared, and Adèle again clamped down the lid on the humiliating memories of last evening. She must not be humiliated when Miss Frink came in. She remembered the violence of her own attack upon that lady and regretted it as most unwise; nevertheless, her head might be “bloody,” but it should be “unbowed.” It had been quite evident for some time that Miss Frink’s hospitality was being strained; Adèle could not in any case have hoped to remain here much longer. Why should she be ashamed of loving Hugh? Why should she be ashamed of trying to get him? She was not. It was all in the game. She had lost for the present, but who could tell?
By the time Miss Frink’s knock sounded on the door, the young woman was dressed and ready to open it with an attempt at a smile.
“Good-morning, Aunt Susanna.”
“Good-morning, Adèle.” Miss Frink regarded the calm face and unfallen eyes uncomfortably; and felt her own self-possession strengthened by such control.
“Well,” she began, as they sat down in neighboring chairs, “we have come to the parting of the ways, Adèle.”
“Have we? Where are you going?” was the astonishing reply.