'No; you know your sister better. She would not have ventured—at least——'
'I thought not,' he returned coldly. 'I wish her no ill, but, I confess, I am hardly in the mood for true forgiveness just now. You see I am no saint, Aunt Milly,' with a sneer, that sat ill on the handsome, careworn young face, 'and I am above playing the hypocrite. Tender messages are not in my line, and I am sorry to say I have not Roy's forgiving temper.'
'Dear Rex, he is a pattern to us all,' thought Mildred, but she wisely forbore making the irritating comparison; it would certainly not have lightened Richard's dark mood. With an odd sort of tenacity he seemed dwelling on his aunt's last words.
'You are wrong in one thing, Aunt Milly. I do not know my sister. I know Rex, and love him with all my heart; and I understand the foolish baby Chriss, but Olive is to me simply an enigma.'
'Because you have not attempted to solve her.'
'Most enigmas are tiresome, and hardly worth the trouble of solving,' he returned calmly.
'Richard! your own sister! for shame!' indignantly from Mildred.
'I cannot help it, Aunt Milly; Olive has always been perfectly incomprehensible to me. She is the worst sister, and, as far as I can judge, the worst daughter I ever knew. In my opinion she has simply no heart.'
'Perhaps I had better leave you, Richard; you are not quite yourself.'
The quiet reproof in Mildred's gentlest tones seemed to touch him.