Flora looked at her sister, and once more murmured: “Father would like it, you know,” half pleadingly and half as though in rebuke.
“Father doesn’t know everything about Owen. He has been very much affected by the tone of the day, as Father calls it. His faith....”
“Oh, Val! Isn’t that one reason the more? You might do so much to help him.”
Flora spoke with humourless and absolute earnestness.
“Valeria!”
The Canon’s voice, subdued but distinct, came to them from without.
“My dear, go to your room. This is not right. You are acting in defiance of my known wishes, although, no doubt, thoughtlessly. Bid your sister good-night and go.”
Val did not even wait to carry out the first half of the Canon’s injunction. She caught up her brush and comb and left the room.
“Are my wishes so little to you, Valeria?” said her father, standing on the stairs. “It costs so small an act of self-sacrifice to be faithful in that which is least!”
“I’m sorry, Father. We both forgot the time.”