"I guess that's about it," Luella answered, seriously.
"Then all I have to say is, we're damned cowards, all of us!" he cried, with the old flash of rage.
But it was the last time. Beaten, yet triumphant, he stooped for his harness and himself assumed it, with set teeth.
"I—I shouldn't have said that," he said, gravely. "It's—it's a very difficult thing ... a man has so many responsibilities...."
They waited patiently.
"It seems one must compromise—something—anyway," he went on, thinking his way painfully along. "I don't know why it seems so difficult to me now; ... they talked enough, all the others, and of course I shall never speak to your Aunt Ethel again—you may use your own judgment, Dorothy—because there are some insults...."
He shook himself again and drew the girl to her feet.
"Dearest," he said, and there was a sad little ring in his voice, but a strangely kind one, "I—we have been mistaken. It wouldn't do. I think—" he looked anxiously at Luella—"the sooner we get some one—to—to—a clergyman, you know, or a—a legal person of some kind—"
"I'll get Mr. Andrews right away," Luella assured him briskly. "He's Cong'ational, and he's a real pleasant young man—new here. Car'line, you run right down cross-lots to that first white house an' there he'll be, callin' this minute on the Wilkinses, 'cause she told me he would. You say Luella Judd wants him right away, an' he'll come."
"Yes, Luella, I will," said Caroline but her eyes were fastened on the girl.