"I never knew it until just now—at the station." She came now and sat down upon the arm of his chair. "It just happened yesterday—and today."
She put up a finger to her lips and rubbed them, fearing that he might see there the flame of the kiss they but now had borne.
"Who is the young man—if you are really in earnest about all this? Where did you meet him? Whoever he is, you've hardly done your duty by me. I'm your guardian—I stand in loco parentis for you. When did all this happen?"
"Yesterday, on the train. I didn't expect it myself. But I promised. He's promised me. We were going to tell you about it at once."
She was the very picture of happy and contented young womanhood as she spoke. Not so happy was the man whom she addressed.
"I can't guess at all whom you mean," said he. "Is he anybody—is he a man of station—has he any business—has he any means? How old is he—who is he?"
"I can't answer so many questions all at once, Nunkie," said she. "But I'm going to be very happy, I know that. Perhaps you can answer some of the questions for yourself—perhaps you know him. Well, it's Dieudonné Lane!—he's in town right now—a schoolmate of mine for four years. Surely, I know all about him."
Judge Henderson swiftly turned and looked at her steadily, cold consternation on his face. "Anne!" he exclaimed. "That can't be! It's absurd."
"Oh, I expected that," said she easily. "That's because he hasn't any money. I knew that. As for his family—he told me long ago that he was an orphan, that his father died when he was very young, and left only enough for his education, and that he would have to make his own way. Very well, some men have had to do that—you have had to yourself, Nunkie, isn't it true? And Don was born here in this very town——"
He put out his hand over hers as it lay upon the table-top. "Anne!" said he. "My child! You're but a child—an impulsive, foolish child. What have you done? You have not pledged your word—to him?"