“Is—is Florence here?”
“No, sir,” answered Jane, promptly. “She left the house an hour ago.”
A look of pain appeared on John Linden’s pale face.
“Did—did she leave a message for me?” he asked, slowly.
“She asked me to bid you good-by for her,” answered Jane, quickly.
“Uncle, don’t let yourself be disturbed now with painful thoughts. Eat your breakfast first, and then we will speak of Florence.”
John Linden ate a very light breakfast. He seemed to have lost his appetite and merely toyed with his food.
When he arose from the table, Curtis supported him to the library.
“It is very painful to me—this conduct of Florence’s, Curtis,” he said, as he sank into his armchair.
“I understand it fully, uncle,” said Curtis. “When I think of it, it makes me very angry with the misguided girl.”