She found the King's Crest number. It was a dreadful thing that she was about to do. Yet she was going to do it.
She reached for the receiver. Then suddenly her hand was stayed, for it seemed to her that into the silence her greatest grandfather shouted accusingly:
"Where is your pride?"
She found herself trying to explain. "But, Grandfather——"
The clamour of other voices assailed her:
"Where is your pride?"
They were flinging the question at her from all sides, those gentlemen in ruffles, those ladies in shining gowns.
Becky stood before them like a prisoner at the bar—a slight child, yet with the look about her of those lovely ladies, and with eyes as clear as those of the old Governor who had accused her.
"But I love him——"