“But I didn’t see the papers.” Then, with a searching look into his face, she added: “If you believed I was aware of your trouble, you must have thought me very—very unfriendly and indifferent—not to send you some word of sympathy, nor come near you.”
Again Gerald flushed.
“I am afraid I haven’t been quite just to you,” he confessed.
“Well?” questioned the girl, somewhat sharply, as a hand was at that moment laid upon her arm, and she turned to find her guardian at her side.
“I have come to take you home,” he briefly remarked.
“Thank you, Mr. Hubbard,” she coldly returned, “but I am not going home at present, and I will not detain you. The carriage is waiting for me, and I have several errands to attend to before dinner.”
“Very well, then, I will escort you to your carriage before I go,” the man responded, white in his lips with inward rage over his defeat.
She gave her head a little independent toss, but she did not quite dare to defy him further, for his tone had been authoritative, and she knew she must go. But first she turned to Gerald and extended her hand.
“Good-by, Gerald,” she said. “I am so glad that all has ended well for you.” Then she added, in a hurried whisper, “Come and tell me about it—come to-morrow afternoon.”
Gerald thanked her, and telegraphed his assent to her request by a nod and a significant pressure of the hand he held.