“That depends. I really don’t want to cause you trouble. You see, I was fond of you once, Tony—and would you like me to tell you that I am still?”
Tony stood rigidly still with the blood in his forehead until the girl laughed.
“You needn’t meet trouble before it comes,” she said. “I only wanted to see you.”
Again there was silence, until Tony, who felt he must say something, broke it.
“Where have you been since you left Northrop?” he asked.
“In London. Music-hall stage. I took there, and was in Melbourne, too. Just now I’m resting a little, and only came down here out of curiosity.”
“Still,” and Tony’s voice trembled a little, “you will have heard—”
“Sit down,” said the girl almost sharply. “I want to talk to you. Yes, I heard in Melbourne. I read it all in a Darsley paper, and thought what fools the folks were to blame Mr. Appleby.”
Tony gasped. “It is a painful thing to talk about, and I don’t want to distress you, but—”
Lucy Davidson looked at him steadily. “What I felt about it doesn’t concern anybody but myself. I told you they were fools, Tony. You and I know who it was that circumstances really pointed to.”