But Susie still interpreted Aggie’s looks as a challenge, and the hymn of praise swelled on.
“My dear—if John wasn’t an angel of goodness and unselfishness—When I think how useless I am to him, and of all that he has done for me, and all that he has given up—”
Aggie was trembling. She drew up the coat to shelter her.
“—why it makes my blood boil to think that any one should know him, and not know what he is.”
Aggie dropped the coat in her agitation. As she stooped to pick it up, Susie put out an anxious arm to help her.
Their eyes met.
“Oh, Aggie, dear—” said Susie. It was all she could say. And her voice had in it consternation and reproach.
But Aggie faced her.
“Well?” she said, steadily.
“Oh, nothing—” It was Susie’s turn for confusion. “Only you said—and we thought—after what you’ve been told—”