“She wouldn’t mind your telling me, Fanny. Of course, I sha’n’t give you away, though. You and I were always good pals, weren’t we? The trouble is that I—I can’t quite believe it. I saw them both only two days ago, and I know he’s in New York now.”
“She’s here with her father.”
He rose from his seat and began to walk about the room. Apparently he did not care what she might think of his agitation, which had returned with full force.
“You’re fond of her, you know her well—has she told you what’s the matter?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
He stopped short.
“Has her father anything to do with it?”
Fanny hesitated.
“I suppose he has; you know he’s always so domineering. I don’t know anything about it, but there’s been talk about the expedition. I believe they had set their hearts on Faunce commanding it, and—and, of course, it’s yours. It couldn’t go to any one but you now.”
“Yes, it can, for I’ve refused it.”