“Why—why, nothing of importance. But I am learning here in Scarford. My opportunity has come, just as yours did, Mother. I am a free woman and I shall not be a slave—a SLAVE to any man.”
With which remark, a quotation from a paper read at the most recent Chapter meeting, she walked from the room. Her astonished parents looked at each other. Daniel was the first to speak.
“My soul and body!” he gasped. “What—what—Serena, did you hear what she said? That about John? That he was a good fellow—in his way? In his WAY! My soul and body!”
Serena shook her head.
“I—I don't believe she meant it, Daniel,” she said. “I'm sure she didn't. She's just a little carried away, that's all. All this society—this altered social position of ours—has turned her head the least bit. She didn't mean it. I'll have another talk with her pretty soon.”
“I should say you'd better. Serena, do you know what I've done? Done on my own hook, I mean. I've written—”
He paused. The disclosure which, on the impulse of the moment, he had been about to make was, for him, a serious one. He had written the letter “on his own hook,” without telling his wife of his action. What would she say if he told her now, so long afterward?
“You've done? What have you done?” asked Serena sharply.
The captain still hesitated. Before his mind was made up the front door opened and Cousin Percy made his appearance. He entered the hall quickly, and to Mr. Hapgood—who hastened from somewhere or other to take his coat and hat—he said nothing, except to snarl a comment on the butler's slowness. He did not speak to the Dotts either, but tramped savagely up the stairs. His face, as seen by the electric light, was flushed and frowning.
Serena turned to her husband.