“No, no, not happy; I shall regret it.”
“You will miss Judy,” he continued; “the other members of the family you are indifferent to.”
She lifted her glowing eyes to his face. There was a method in his way of questioning her, and it effected an immediate change in her manner. “If you have no more to say to me,” she observed quietly, “I will go away.”
“I have nothing more,” he said, “except to make the simple observation that you are free to return here at any time.”
“I shall not return, Mr. Armour.”
The proud sadness of her tone touched him. “You arrogant child,” he exclaimed, “how can you tell? What do you know of life?”
“I know what is right for me to do,” she said almost inaudibly, “and I must not keep you any longer.”
“Stay,” he said, “just for one instant. Till you answer my last question. Judy is the one that you most dread the parting from?”
“Yes, Judy—why not Judy?” she said composedly.
It was not Judy. He saw who it was in every curve of her suddenly erect, defiant figure, in every line of her dark annoyed face as she went quickly away.