“The truth is, I’ve no wish to renew my acquaintance with people I met in England, and I went to America in order to avoid doing so,” he said. “You know what happened before I left.”
“Yes; but I think you are exaggerating its importance. After all, you’re not the only man who has, through nothing worse than carelessness, had a black mark put against his name. You may have a chance yet of showing that the thing was a mistake.”
“Then I must wait until the chance comes,” Dick answered firmly.
“Very well,” said Kenwardine. “Since this means you’re determined to go, we must try to make it as easy as possible for you. I’ll see the doctor and Mr. Fuller.”
He went out, and by and by Clare came in and noted a difference in Dick. He had generally greeted her as eagerly as his weakness allowed, and showed his dependence on her, but now his face was hard and resolute. The change was puzzling and disturbing.
“My father tells me you want to go away,” she remarked.
“I don’t want to, but I must,” Dick answered with a candor he had not meant to show. “You see, things I ought to be looking after will all go wrong at the dam.”
“Isn’t that rather egotistical?” Clare asked with a forced smile. “I have seen Mr. Bethune, who doesn’t look overworked and probably doesn’t mind the extra duty. In fact, he said so.”
“People sometimes say such things, but when they have to do a good deal more than usual they mind very much. Anyhow, it isn’t fair to ask them, and that’s one reason for my going away.”
Clare colored and her eyes began to sparkle. “Do you think we mind?”