"A little bird in the air whispered it," she retorts, with grim pleasantry.
"No such thing. I wish I knew who had been telling tales to you. I'd wring their necks!" testily. "But you understand, don't you," anxiously, "how premature it would be to follow him? Give him a little time. He'll come to his senses fast enough, and thank fortune for his pretty little wife!"
"Uncle Langton," indignantly, "do give me leave to speak. Do you think I'm a love-sick fool to go running after a man that despises me?"
"I thought you had more sense," he says, beaming upon her; "you give it up, then?"
"No, I am determined to go. Try to understand, sir, that it is on no personal business I wish to see him. It is for—for another. He will understand."
"Write to him, then, Reine."
"It would not do. He is very obstinate, I fancy. I may have to urge him very persistently."
Mr. Langton peers at her curiously beneath his shaggy brows.
"What is this mysterious mission on which you are going, Reine? Explain."
The dark lashes fall, veiling her troubled eyes from his keen scrutiny.