"But you—you will see me, Ronnie?"
"Surely. You don't suppose that anything in the world will ever come between us, do you? Not fifty Saults."
"It is Christina!" she said. "How mean of her to discuss me with Sault! And I've done so much for her; brought her books from the store and given her little things—I do think it is deceitful of her."
"Will you do as I ask?"
"Of course, Ronnie darling. I'll tell her that I've given you up. But she is terribly sharp and I must be careful. I sleep in the same room, ours is a very small house. I used to have a room of my own until Sault came—the horrid old man. He is in love with Christina. It does seem ridiculous, doesn't it, a man like that? Christina says she isn't, but really—she is so deceitful."
"Will you tell her what I suggest?" he insisted.
"Yes—I'll tell her. As for Mr. Sault—"
"Leave me to deal with Mr. Sault," said Ronnie grandly.
Evie reached home, her little brain charged with conflicting emotions. Her relief at meeting the man again, the happiness that meeting had brought, her resentment at Sault's unwarranted interference, her hurt from Christina's supposed duplicity and breach of confidence, each contended for domination and each in turn triumphed.
"I have given up Ronnie and I am not going to meet him again," she said as she entered the room.