“Oh!”
Constance left the room abruptly.
When he reached New York, the first thing the doctor did was to look up Oakley. He was quick to notice a certain constraint in the young man's manner as they shook hands, but this soon passed off.
“I am awfully glad to see you,” he had said. “I have thought of you again and again, and I have been on the point of writing you a score of times. I haven't forgotten your kindness to me.”
“Nonsense, Oakley. I liked you, and it was a pleasure to me to be able to show my regard,” responded the doctor, with hearty good-will.
“How is Mrs. Emory—and Miss Emory?”
“They are both very well. They were just a little hurt that you ran off without so much as a goodbye.”
Oakley gave him a quick glance.
“She is—Miss Emory is still in Antioch?”
The doctor nodded.