“No doubt it all sounds very tedious to you, Zee, dear. But these things are necessary. I have carefully weighed every word in that deed. Its provisions are wise,—very wise, and safeguard the interests of the beneficiary very strongly. Yes; it is an excellent piece of work,—but of course I take no credit for it. I have merely given you the benefit of the work of others,—all very competent men.”
Zelda said nothing. He rose and fumbled with the pen and ink that lay on the table by the inkstand, while he waited for her to speak. The silence grew oppressive; the girl had always responded quickly in their talk. He turned, holding the pen in his hand.
“I suggest that you look the paper over before signing, Zee.”
He held the paper toward her, but she shook her head.
“Very well. I have read it to you carefully; and you can, of course, have a copy at any time. It is perfectly proper for you to sign to-night,—the day before your birthday; you can acknowledge it before a notary to-morrow.”
He was smiling, but he held the pen toward her with a hand that shook perceptibly.
Repulsion and pity struggled for the mastery as she pondered, looking away from him into the fire. She felt that she could never meet his eyes again; but she seemed to see them in the flames, the small gray eyes that were so full of cunning and avarice. It was his deceit, his effort to play upon her credulity, that stung her now into a fierce contempt. She rose and turned toward him.
“I wish you would not lie to me, Ezra Dameron,” she said quietly, with even the suggestion of a caress upon the syllables of his name.
CHAPTER XXXI
FACE TO FACE
The room was very still after she had spoken. Her father did not start or look directly at her, but, after an interval of silence, he lifted his eyes slowly until they met hers.