"You must miss him," she observed sympathetically.
"I do miss him, but he comes often. He is a good son. He sent a message to you, by the way, but it was not important."
"No, it was not important," repeated Eugenia with a feeling that her carelessness appeared to be assumed.
She lightly kissed Mrs. Webb and ran down the steps and into the carriage, which was waiting in the road. Her visit had left her with a curious sense of oppression, and she breathed a long draught of the invigorating air.
As she drove down the street she saw Nicholas coming out of his office and offered him a "lift" to his home. He said little on the way, and his utterances were forced, but Eugenia talked lightly and rapidly, as she always did when with him.
She told him of Sally Burwell, of the last letter from Bernard—who was coming home soon—of Mrs. Webb and the "Daughters of Duty."
"The truth is, I like her, but I'm afraid of her—dreadfully."
"She disapproves of your—your liking for me," he said bitterly. "But every one does that—even the judge, though he doesn't say anything. And they are right—I see it. You know from what I came and what I am."
"Yes, I know what you are," she returned defiantly, "and they shall all know some day."
He turned and looked at her as she sat beside him, but he was silent, nor did he speak until he said "good-bye" before his father's gate.