“Must you go away after you finish Phil’s?” Her mind was not on the portrait.
“Yes, unless the Judge wants his own painted. I wish he would. I’d love to stay with you—you’ve been so kind to me. Nobody has ever been so good.”
“And you’ve been very kind to me,” Olivia sighed. “Oh, so kind!”
“And just think how beautiful it is here,” he rejoined; “and the wonderful weather; and the lovely life we have led. You ought to be very contented in so beautiful a home, with everybody so good to you.”
“It’s all been very, very happy, hasn’t it?” She had not listened, nor had she answered him. It was the refrain of the old song that filled her ears.
“Yes, the happiest of my life. If you’d been my own sister you couldn’t have been lovelier to me.”
“Where shall you go?” She was not looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the group of trees breaking the sky line.
“Home, to my people,” he answered slowly.
“How far away is it?”