He was sitting before the base burner with her father and jumped up to help her take her coat off. He greeted her soberly.
"Your father's been telling me about your discussion, Lyd," he said.
"You can't mean to stick by your decision!"
Lydia sat down wearily. "Oh, Kent, don't you begin at me, too."
"But I think I ought to, Lydia," replied Kent, his voice dangerously eager. "I don't think any of your friends have a right to be quiet when you're letting a silly scruple ruin your and your father's future."
"It certainly won't ruin my future," said Lydia. "And I won't let it ruin Dad's."
"Now look here, Lydia," began Kent, "let's begin at the beginning and sift this thing out."
"But why?" groaned Lydia. "You know exactly how I feel and why I feel it. And I know how you feel. We've been debating it for years."
"Yes, but listen," persisted Kent, and once more he began his arguments on the Indian question.
Kent had a certain eloquence of speech, yet Lydia, knowing all that he would say, gave little heed to his words while she watched his glowing face.
"Don't you see?" he ended finally.