“Ned! What is it?” she demanded.
“It’s the deluge—without an ark,” said Carrington, without stirring.
“Well?” said Elenore, tersely.
“I’m not going east with Velantour. I’m going home,” he said, mechanically.
“Not dad?” she said, breathlessly.
“No.” He answered the unfinished question. “But he’s broken his leg, poor old dad! And other things are wrong, and he wants me.”
“And me?” she questioned, quickly. “Doesn’t he want me?”
“No,” said Carrington, impatiently. “He wants his son, he says, and he shall have me. And he shan’t know I ever whimpered about coming. I’m not cad enough for that. But going east with Velantour is the chance of a lifetime, and it takes a minute or two to get heroic about giving it up, that’s all. All except that it’s bitter to think how little use I shall be to him when I get there, for it’s partly business, and I haven’t a particle of business ability. That will be his disappointment, which is bitterer still.”
“Do you mean to say that he doesn’t want me?” Elenore demanded. “Where is the letter?”
Carrington held it out to her without a word.