“Yes.”
“Can’t you think of any other friends?”
“No.”
“Not even me?”
“I don’t know,” said poor Phyl, “I never could understand you quite, but now that I am in trouble you seem a friend—I’m miserable—but there’s no use having friends here. It only makes it the worse having to go.”
“Do you remember the day I asked you to run off to Florida with me,” said Silas, “and leave this damned place? It’s no good for any one here and you’ve found it out—the place is all right, it’s the people that are wrong.”
Phyl made no reply.
“You’re not going back,” he finished.
She glanced at him.