"How?" asked Judy, puzzled.
"I should have told you that life is what we make it. And your fortune will be good or bad as you live it. It will not be a gipsy queen but Judy Jameson who shall decide the final issue."
"But, doctor, she knew that I loved the sea, and—and—that I had lost some one that I loved—"
"Oh, Judy," Launcelot's tone was impatient, "didn't you tell that fellow that you were coming, and didn't they have lots of time to find out about you."
"I didn't think of that." said Judy meekly.
But as he went out of the door, she had a little flash of temper.
"If you had waited for me this morning, I shouldn't have gone to the camp."
"If you had been ready, I shouldn't have left you," was Launcelot's reply, as his quiet eyes met Judy's stormy ones.
"Oh," she said, helplessly, and turned her gaze away, feeling that, as usual, he had the best of it.
And at that he whispered, "But I didn't have a good time, Judy—we—we missed—you—" and he followed Dr. Grennell.