“I don’t understand him,” said Vivienne with a puzzled gesture.
Stargarde was hanging her beautiful head in a way unusual with her. “He refers to your father,” she said, “and to the manner in which Colonel Armour became acquainted with him.”
“Oh I know that,” said Vivienne. “Colonel Armour was having a driving tour through the province and seeing a pretty orphan boy that he thought would make a good pet he paid some money to the people who took care of him so that they would give him up.”
“Yes,” said Stargarde.
Vivienne gazed at the half-witted specimen of humanity before her in silence. Then she said, “I will not detain you any longer. Perhaps I will see you again some day.”
Without his usual politeness MacDaly darted from the room as if he had been held there a prisoner.
“I wished to talk more to him,” said Vivienne; “but I saw that you did not care for it, Stargarde.”
“Come here, darling, and sit on this stool by me,” said her friend as soothingly as if she were talking to a child; “I am so glad to find this interest in your parents in you, and yet, and yet——”
“And yet—what?” queried Vivienne.
“I wish that you had chosen to speak to me first rather than to MacDaly.”