“I suppose they nearly fainted,” he remarked. “I’m sure you told them that I was a puppet and you pulled the wires.”
“Don’t put it that way, Hugh,” pleaded Miss Frink.
“I can’t help it, Aunt Susanna! It’s a mess!”
“Don’t say so, dear boy.” Hugh met her bright, speaking eyes. “I have always been a successful woman, that’s what the world calls it; but I never was a happy one until last night.”
“I’m not much to make you happy,” said the boy restively. “Just a pawn in a game, not a penny in the world of my own, in debt to Ogden, and a sneak in the eyes of your town—”
“Oh, my boy! Oh, Hugh!” There was such pain and longing in Miss Frink’s tone that it checked him. Beside all that he expressed was the constant irritation and humiliation that remained from the scene with Adèle.
“Hugh, you told me last night that you—” Miss Frink stopped because something rose in her throat. No one broke the silence. “I know how your young pride is hurt,” she went on at last, “but it will be restored.”
“Colonel Duane said,” put in Ogden, “that there would be very little talk: that wherever you went, Miss Frink’s nephew would be always welcome.”