Eugene went to her, and she stuffed it in his pocket. Then she yawned sleepily, put her pink lips to his ear, and murmured, “Good-by, Eugene, be a good girl;” and dropping down on her pillow was asleep before they had fairly left the room.
Ten minutes later Eugene and the priest were walking quietly up the avenue in the direction of the Hardys’ house, and Mr. Manning and his wife sat talking together with amused faces.
“What do you make of that boy?” he asked.
“I don’t make much of him,” she replied. “He seems a polite little cynic.”
“He is more than that,” said Mr. Manning sagely. “If he were going to stay in this country, I would do something for him.”
CHAPTER XI.
THAT WOMAN.
Mrs. Hardy was afraid that Eugene was going to be ill. Several times while giving her an account of his visit to the Mannings he relapsed into long, troubled silences.