He remembered plainly what he had said, but did not communicate it to his sister. She was so frail, so gently modest, that an angry man's language would hurt her.
"I told him," ended Horace, "to do whatever he thought best, and that, if Cronk came here again, I should shoot him down like a dog. I think we ought to tell Fledra, and then, too, I desire to speak to her of something else. Can you bring her to me, Ann, without frightening Floyd?"
It did not need Ann's quiet plucking at her sleeve to tell Fledra that the blow had fallen. She had expected it day after day; until now, when she faced Horace and looked into his tense face, she felt that her whole hope had gone.
Ann tiptoed out before her brother opened his lips.
For a moment the harassed man knew not what to say to the silent, trembling girl.
"Fledra," he began, "the first move has been made in your case by your father."
"Must we go?" burst from the quivering lips.
"No, no: not if you have told me the truth about your past life—I mean about your father being cruel to you."