“You mean this change?” said Aimée, in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“For three months,” she answered. “I did not like to tell you because I knew she would not like it; but it dates from the time Grif went away.”
Mrs. Phil burst into an impetuous gush of tears, hiding her handsome, girlish face on Tod's neck.
“It is a shame!” she cried out. “It is a cruel, burning shame! Who would ever have thought of Grif's treating her like this?”
“Yes,” said Phil; “and who would ever have thought that Dolly would have broken down? Dolly! By George! I can't believe it. If I am able to judge, it seems time that she should try Switzerland or somewhere else. Aimée, has she heard nothing of him?”
“Nothing.”
The young man flushed hotly.
“Confound it!” he burst forth. “It looks as if the fellow was a dishonorable scamp. And yet he is the last man I should ever have fancied would prove a scamp.”
“But he has not proved himself a scamp yet,” said Aimée, in a troubled tone. “And Dolly would not like to hear you say so. And if you knew the whole truth you wouldn't say so. He has been tried too far, and he has been impetuous and rash, but it was his love for Dolly that made him so. And wherever he may be, Phil, I know he is as wretched and hopeless as Dolly herself could be at the worst. It has all been misunderstanding and mischance.”