Charley nodded and turned to go, but his sister detained him.
"You—you saw her, I suppose?" she said hesitatingly.
"Edith do you mean?" Charley looks at her full. "Yes, I saw her. As I went down for the purpose, I was hardly likely to fail."
"And what has she to say for herself?" Trix asks bitterly.
"Very little; we were not together ten minutes in all. She was dressed for a party of some kind, and I did not detain her."
"A party?" Trix repeats; "and we like this! Did she send no message at all?"
"She sent you her dearest love."
"She may keep it—let her give it to Sir Victor Catheron. I don't want her love, or anything else belonging to her!" Trix cries, explosively. "Of all the heartless, ungrateful girls—"
Her brother stops her with a look. Those handsome gray eyes of
Charley's can be very stern eyes when he likes.
"As I said before, that will do, Trix. Edith is one of the wise virgins we read of—she has chosen by long odds the better part. What could we do with her now? take her back and return her to her father and step-mother, and the dull life she hated? As for gratitude, I confess I don't see where the gratitude is to come in. We engaged her at a fixed salary: so much cleverness, French, German, and general usefulness on her part; on ours, so many hundred dollars per annum. Let me say this, Trix, once and for good: as you don't seem able to say anything pleasant of Edith, suppose you don't speak of her at all?"