He caught her slim young shoulders again in an iron grip. “Anybody else? Look at me. Look at me, I say! Is there anybody else?”
She met his furious eyes with the sad candor of her own. “No one, Luke. You know that.” The black woman, her bright calico apron heaped high with the towels, passed them and went into the kitchen and she paused until the door had closed behind her. “I—I admire you, and look up to you, and glory in what you’ve done——”
“But you don’t love me?” He was accusing, bitter.
She felt guilty and forlorn and forsaken, and the tears came into her eyes. “Oh, Luke, I love what you are, and what you’re going to do and to be— And I will marry you! I will! I want to, and Dad wanted me to, but if you’ll wait——”
“If it’s the Tenafee woman—” he began, between set teeth.
“Miss Ada? No, Luke, no! She has never said a word—we’ve never talked of you! It’s my own fault—my own wicked, ungrateful fault, but I’ll try, oh, I’ll try to——”
“Glen, dear! Oh, Glen!” fluted Miss Ada Tenafee’s gentle voice. She opened the door and looked out, her bright face clouding over at sight of Luke Manders. “Glen, honey, you have callers. Good afternoon, Luke!”
He stared at her rudely, consideringly, without answering.
“Oh, who is it, Miss Ada? Callers? For me? I was just coming in, and Luke is coming, too. Yes, Luke, please—” she laid her hand on his arm as he turned away. She could not let him go like that. “Come in, if only for a minute.”
Looking at Miss Ada, reading her quite visible hope that he would refuse, he turned and followed Glen into the house, the teacher fluttering after.