Mrs. Barrimore could make nothing of this amazing statement. She put it down to the girl’s excited state—wild meaningless words these must be!
“Well, my dear,” she said quietly, “if we do what we believe to be right, all will be well with us. It is doing things we know to be wrong that brings all the real trouble.”
After Mrs. Barrimore had gone Phyllis nibbled the end of her paint brush, an angry frown spoiling her piquant face.
“I believe,” she said to herself with comical frankness, “that if Charlie were in love with someone else, and I hadn’t got him, I should want him.”
Then her eyes fell on the old studio coat which Dan had omitted to pack with the rest of his belongings, and her eyes filled with resentful tears. How Dan worshipped the girl he called his “Madonna!” What a tender light came into his blue eyes at the mere mention of her name!
Phyllis was horribly jealous, and horribly sorry for herself.
She remembered with annoyance that Miss Le Breton looked superb on a horse. She had one now, and rode with her uncle. Everyone was talking about that girl’s splendid horsemanship—just as if all Canadian girls didn’t ride well!
And she, Phyllis, had only a bicycle!
Girls never looked particularly well on bicycles—and they did on horses.
But Dan hadn’t seen Miss Le Breton on horseback. That was some comfort. He was gone away, too; that was another comfort.