They started toward Dalton.
“Not through the busy streets,” exclaimed Florence.
“Yes,” persisted Mabel, “right through the streets of Dalton. Why, you will forget how the place looks; and you are not benefiting yourself nor any one else by shutting yourself up. Come, I mean to bring the roses back to those cheeks.”
Mabel handled the reins herself, and managed her spirited pony in good style.
They were shortly passing through the main business street in Dalton. Florence found her thoughts diverted, and looked about her with interest.
Suddenly her gaze became fixed and her face whitened.
“Who is that?” she exclaimed, clutching her companion’s arm.
“Where?” asked Mabel, in surprise at Florence’s tone, and flinching at the grasp on her arm.
“There—walking down the street just ahead of us. In the back he looks like—that is, he brings to my mind—Carlos Conrad!”
She spoke the name in a whisper. She was affected visibly, and trembled with agitation.