"Then you have answered it? How?"
He turned the paper over and wrote his reply on the back, word for word.
"You dared to say that to my father!" she exclaimed. "How could you?"
"Under some circumstances, I think I could dare anything. But you are angry, as I said you'd be."
"Of course I am—very. I demand to be taken back to Denver this minute."
"Do you mean that?"
"Didn't I say it?"
Brockway tried in vain to read a contradiction in her face, but the steady eyes were veiled, and it is the eyes that speak when the lips are silent.
"I'm sorry," he began; "it meant a great deal to me, but I know it was inexcusable. I'll go and tell Burton, and you can go back from the Forks, where the trains meet."
Now Gertrude had builded upon the supposition that she was safe beyond the reach of recall, and she made haste to retract.