"Then I think you must be mad! What led you to this absurd conclusion?"
"It's hard to explain," Evelyn answered with a faint smile. "I suppose I couldn't give you any very logical reasons."
"Then it may not be too late to put things right!" Mrs. Cliffe saw a ray of hope.
"I'm afraid it is. I think Reggie knows that—he was very considerate. There is no use in your trying to do anything; I must have my own way in this."
Mrs. Cliffe was painfully surprised. The girl had suddenly developed and revealed unsuspected capacities. She had grown like her father, who, for all his patience, was sometimes immovable. There was inflexibility in Evelyn's attitude; her face was hard and determined.
"Very well," she acquiesced. "Your father must be told, and I don't know what he will do about it."
"I would rather tell him myself," Evelyn said.
This was not what Mrs. Cliffe wanted, but the girl moved to the door as she finished speaking, and her mother sat down, burning with indignation. Her authority had been outraged, she felt overcome, and did not leave her room all evening.
Evelyn found Cliffe on the veranda, and took him down the steps before she told him what she had done. He listened without surprise; indeed, she thought his manner was rather curiously sympathetic.
"Well," he said, "in a way I'm sorry. Reggie's a good fellow as far as he goes. But I imagined you liked him. Why did you refuse?"