“You young savages!” exclaimed Mr. Sage, with mock severity. He said good night to Oliver and, murmuring something about next Sunday’s sermon, entered the house. They heard him go slowly up the stairs.
CHAPTER XIV
JEALOUSY WITHOUT LOVE
“Did you notice, Oliver, that he spoke of my mother a little while ago?”
“Did he?”
“Certainly. You must have heard him.”
Oliver was silent. He was wondering how long that strange, unaccountable blur had lasted.
“It was the first time he has spoken of her in years,” she went on, her brow puckering. “It seemed to slip out when he wasn’t thinking, when he wasn’t on guard.”
“It slipped out because he was thinking, Jane,” said Oliver. “That’s just it. He is always thinking of her. What was it he said?”
She told him.