"It’s—sad out here," said Angelica. "So—damp, and all."
"There’s a big storm coming. I wanted to speak to you, Angelica. I’m very glad you came. I wanted—I’ve some money that’s due you. You see, I’m going away to-morrow."
"Going where?"
"To a training-camp—before I go to France, you know."
"Oh, dear!" she cried, with quite genuine dismay. "Oh, Mr. Eddie, I am sorry! I hate to have you gone!"
"I don’t like to go," he admitted, simply. "And especially I don’t like to leave you like this. I wish that it could have been different."
She waited a moment.
"I suppose I better be going to-morrow, too," she said.
"I suppose so. There’s nothing more for you here, Angelica. Polly’s going away, you know, and——”
"Mr. Eddie!" she cried. "Tell me! Tell me, honestly, do you think I—it was my fault? If you’d only please tell me everything they told you—Mrs. Geraldine, and all! What did she say about me—and—that?"