His heart sank. Disappointment, and a sort of disgust for this childish lie filled him; he did not want to look at her again. He drove on, down a road which seemed to him endless, like a road in a dream.
The sun was going down quietly, without pomp and glory, only slipping out of sight and drawing with it all the light and color in the world. They passed houses, they passed other cars, and it seemed to him that he and this girl passed through the everyday life about them like ghosts, set apart from their fellows, under a chill shadow.
“Jimmy!” she said, abruptly. “How can you be so horrid! Why don’t you talk? Why can’t you be like—like a real cousin?”
“Perhaps I haven’t had enough practice,” Ross replied.
She did not like this.
“All right, then! Don’t help me! Just go away and leave me to suffer all alone!” she cried. “You’re a heartless—beast! Go away!”
“Just as you please,” said Ross. “Can you drive the car?”
She began to cry, but he paid no attention to this.
“Jimmy,” she resumed, at last, “my Gayle’s coming to-night.”
“Your Gayle?” he repeated. “What’s that?”