"He offered to let Davy come," Jack said idly.
"That's different," she said, wondering at men's stupidity.
Jack's brain moved only about a third as fast as hers. He frowned at the fire. "If you lit out without telling him," he began, "he'll think that I—what will he think of me! After I promised."
It was Mary's turn to be surprised. "Promised what?"
Jack turned stubborn. "I can't tell you," he said.
"But something that concerns me," said Mary. "I think I have a right to know it."
Jack merely pulled in his upper lip. "You do lots of things without explaining them to me. I have the same right."
Mary dropped the inquiry. "You needn't be anxious about what father is thinking," she said coldly. "I left a letter for him, telling where we were going, and I told him you didn't know we were coming."
They were silent. Jack stared at the fire, wondering unhappily what was the matter. After they had come, and he had been so glad to see them, to be near a quarrel already! To heal this inexplicable breach he put out his hand, and took Mary's.
She snatched it away with astonishing suddenness. "Don't you dare to touch me!" she muttered, low and quivering.