"Oh, don't talk of sorrow!"
"Nance, do you think I came here to taunt and bully you?"
"Perhaps——"
"What the devil do you think I came for?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"To be rough—and quarrelsome?"
She was falling a little from the serenity of her indignation. Her anger had been a thing of the moment, and now that it was passing she knew that she had suspected her father, and her own suspicions went out to clasp hands with Jasper's accusations.
She looked slantwise at him, and a glimpse of his clean-cut mouth and steady eyes made her think of a strength and courage that waited. Of a sudden she felt desperately helpless, and desperately lonely. Why were they at cross-purposes, and quarrelling like boy and girl? It would be better if she spoke out.
"Well, what are you going to do? You seem so sure about it all. I suppose you will denounce us?"
"You knew nothing about it, Nance."