She tossed her bouquet over the railing of the veranda with a vindictive smile which would have astonished Osgood had he seen it.
Barclay was on the threshold; he looked at Lily and missed the bouquet; it was not in Osgood’s button-hole—what could she have done with it? He looked at Osgood, and saw that his teeth were set with a passion which he could understand. Lily sat down in the nearest chair, and the young men moved away together.
“There is no need of any nonsense between us,” said Osgood; “I was under a wrong impression regarding your engagement. I do offer my congratulations.”
“Thank you,” said Barclay, dubiously. And then they looked at each other with mad eyes. What a relief it would have been if they could have fought to the death!
Osgood left Barclay abruptly, and sought his Aunt Formica.
“Aunt!” he said, in a mild voice, “you need not ask Conch to blow any horn for me. I am going to sea.”
“You will be better when she is married,” she answered, significantly.
“I intend to before that. Your surmise is incorrect. You do not know that I ran away from Lily, as well as from you and the Sub-Treasury.”
“What do you mean?”