“One reason is that I happen to like you. The other reason is that, whether you admit it or not, you are acting like a young idiot, and are putting the responsibility on the shoulders of some one else.”
“She is responsible, isn't she?”
“Not in the least. How old are you, Joe?”
“Twenty-three, almost.”
“Exactly. You are a man, and you are acting like a bad boy. It's a disappointment to me. It's more than that to Sidney.”
“Much she cares! She's going to marry Wilson, isn't she?”
“There is no announcement of any engagement.”
“She is, and you know it. Well, she'll be happy—not! If I'd go to her to-night and tell her what I know, she'd never see him again.” The idea, thus born in his overwrought brain, obsessed him. He returned to it again and again. Le Moyne was uneasy. He was not certain that the boy's statement had any basis in fact. His single determination was to save Sidney from any pain.
When Joe suddenly announced his inclination to go out into the country after all, he suspected a ruse to get rid of him, and insisted on going along. Joe consented grudgingly.
“Car's at Bailey's garage,” he said sullenly. “I don't know when I'll get back.”