She opened them to look with impersonal scorn at Dan Birge. In that brief interlude he became a presuming, ill-tempered, small-town man who would drive her into becoming an equally ill-tempered, small-town woman—she would have none of it!
“Very well,” she answered, drawing off the seal ring which she was wearing until the solitaire was ready, “you’ve said it—not I. Good-by and I hope you’ll be happy.”
She turned and walked in the opposite direction. At first Dan started to follow; then he threw back his head with the same insolent toss as Thurley’s, and, squaring off his shoulders, walked in the direction of the hotel. Of course their engagement was not broken; that was too absurd even to fancy. But Thurley must know, first as well as last, that when she married Dan his wishes were to count. Lovely, wilful Thurley-girl, what a wonderful time of it they would have making up! Of course nothing would really interfere with the September wedding—impish and unwelcome thought. It was just that Thurley must see he was in the right, and, when she sang, it would be in her husband’s house—the twenty-thousand-dollar house with the statue of a deer in the front and a pergola and steam heat! He would go up to see Thurley that same night and they would begin all new again and he would write Westcott on a typewriter and on the store official paper and explain that Miss Precore could not keep her engagement. His Thurley singing at a county fair—never!
CHAPTER VIII
Then the second thrilling event happened! Like all thrilling events it happened with magical speed. First, it was carefully reported by Ali Baba and Hopeful that Thurley Precore had unceremoniously arrived at The Fincherie and demanded to see and speak with Miss Clergy. If some one had meekly sent in a note, it would have been called presumption itself. But to demand to speak with Miss Clergy and to gain one’s point as well was nothing short of marvellous!
For Thurley had been admitted and had rushed up the winding stairs like the “younger generation who come knocking at the door.” She had entered the mysterious front room and remained there, while Hopeful and Ali Baba remained below in a state of fearful curiosity.
Whatever the conversation was it was of interest to Miss Clergy. An hour later Miss Clergy saw her guest to the door and then called Hopeful and said that she was taking Thurley Precore to New York by the morning train. She wished to have a trunk—this with a slight quaver in her voice—packed with the best of what she had; she would buy a new wardrobe as soon as she reached the city. She wished no questions asked nor did she wish Hopeful to answer any questions until they had boarded the train. Hopeful was to have her cousin Betsey Pilrig come to live at the Fincherie, because Thurley Precore wished to have her provided for—her voice softened at Thurley’s name—and they were liable to be away for a long time.
Gasping, twisting her apron, dizzy with trying to comprehend new order of things, Hopeful had insisted, “But what am I to say after—after you have boarded the train?”