“How very sad!” Kitty said sympathetically.
“My poor Uncle must have felt dreadfully wicked when he learned of your father’s death,” Doris commented.
Iris nodded soberly.
“I imagine he did, for no one ever heard of him again.”
As she spoke, Iris wiped the tears from her eyes and Azalea turned her head to hide her face. Doris felt a lump arising in her own throat as she considered the sorrowful end to the romance. She gazed thoughtfully toward the locked gates and a hush fell over the group.
CHAPTER XII
AN INTERLUDE
Doris and Kitty thought that the Misses Gates had finished their story, but presently, after a long pause, Iris went on with difficulty:
“After the funeral we closed the front gates and locked them. To this day they have never been opened.”
“We could not bear to remain in Rumson after all that had happened,” Azalea said quietly. “We went to Europe—Iris to France and I to Germany. There we plunged into study in the hope that it would help us to forget. Finally, when the old wound was partially healed, we once more turned to each other and returned home.”
“Then you both must be fluent linguists,” Doris broke in eagerly.