A sudden suspicion flashed upon him, a pang of jealous rage stabbed him to the heart, and he grew white and rigid.
“You love another; you have played me false, and are glad of an excuse to get rid of me!” he said in cutting tones.
She made no reply, but drew herself up proudly, yet kept her face turned from him.
“Farewell, then, false girl; you are free!” he cried, rushing madly from the room.
Floy looked after him, with a dreary smile more pitiful than tears.
“Oh, Espy, Espy! must we part like this?” she sighed inwardly, putting her hand to her head.
“Miss Floy, are you sick? got a headache?” queried Susan, coming in. “What can I do for ye?”
“Nothing, thank you, Susan; I’ll be better soon.”
“Try a cup o’ tea; it’ll do ye good. I heard Mr. Espy go ’way, and I thought I’d just come and tell you that supper’s ready.”