Suspicion was foreign to her open nature; doubt, distrust had no place in her young life; but like a serpent in the girl's Eden the words of the mistress of Champ-au-Haut, "He never will ask you to be his wife," dropped poison in her ears.
She sat up on the grass, thrust back her hair from her forehead—
"Let him dare to hint even that what he said was love for me was not what—what—"
She buried her face in her hands.
"Aileen—Aileen—where are you?"
That voice, breaking in upon her wretched thought of him, brought her to her feet.
VIII
"Mother, don't you think Aunt Meda might open her purse and do something for Aileen Armagh now that the girl has been faithful to her interests so long?"
He had remained at home since his arrival in the morning, and was now about to drive down into the town.