Two spots of angry color appeared in Captain Castaigne’s cheeks.
“I am through with your support, Miss Paybodé,” he returned curtly. “When I choose to walk I prefer not to be held up by a woman.”
“Oh,” Eugenia answered, and stared at her former patient helplessly. What had she said or done to make him so angry?
But the next instant the young officer had taken her hand and in French fashion touched it with his lips.
“Forgive me,” he said, “I am impossible. This, after I depended on you so long for every care. If you will be so good, I think I should like to sit there on the log where you were sitting.”
During his illness Eugenia had grown so accustomed to these swift changes of mood in her patient that she paid no especial attention to this one. Instead she helped him out of his chair and kept at his side while he hobbled over to the log she had just deserted.
But when she stood above him looking down upon him with pride and satisfaction over his achievement he grew angry again.
“If you cannot sit beside me I have no idea of taking your place,” he protested.
The next instant Eugenia sank meekly down. It rather amused her to have Captain Castaigne treat her in this fashion.
Just before them was the small lake which Nona and Barbara had discovered the first morning after their arrival at the farmhouse. It was shadowy now with the coming of evening, but still the water was coolly clear. Its beauty soothed one to silence.