“Well, then, I just wish you wouldn’t,” he said testily. “It’s bad enough to have to bear the relationship, without having you come here.”
“Frank!—dear Frank!”
“There, don’t ‘dear Frank’ me. I should have thought, after what had occurred, you would have been ashamed to show your face here again.”
“Frank dear, we are brother and sister; for pity’s sake, spare me. Is it the duty of a gentleman to speak to me like this?”
She looked at him with a pitying dread in her eyes, as she thought of the horror hanging over his house. His allusions were keen enough, but they were blunt arrows compared to the bolts that threatened to fall upon his home; and, in her desire to shield him and his wife, if possible, from some of the suffering that must come, she scarcely felt their points.
“Gentleman, eh? You behave like a lady, don’t you? Nice position we hold in society through you and the old man, don’t we? I’ll be off abroad, that’s what I’ll do, and take May away from the old connection.”
“Yes, do!” cried Claire excitedly. “Do, Frank, at once. No, no; you must not do that.—Heaven help me! What am I saying?” she sighed to herself.
“Best thing to do,” said Burnett. “Shouldn’t have you always coming in then.”
“Frank dear,” said Claire deprecatingly, “I have not been to see May since—”
“You disgraced yourself on the night of the party,” he said brutally.