“Can you come into my sitting-room? I want to talk with you.”
They returned to his sitting-room, and Jean seated herself while her father walked slowly up and down the room.
“I have been thinking about our going with Baird up to his mine. I told him that we would go; but if this fellow Loring is the manager there, I do not think that we can. I shall tell Baird that we find it impossible.”
“Why?” asked Jean, although she well knew the reason.
“Why?” echoed her father irritably. “Do you remember the insulting letter which he wrote to me after my offer of help to him at Dominion? Do you think it would be a pleasure to meet him again with that letter in mind?”
“You never told me what you wrote in your letter to him,” replied Jean, parrying the question.
“I offered him work in the north because I said we were under obligation to him for saving—That is, to repay my debt to him.”
“I suppose that you made no conditions?”
“Only that he should never cross our path again,” responded her father. “Of course I felt bound to tell him what I thought of him.”
“In other words,” exclaimed Jean with spirit, “you insulted him, and now are angry that he was gentleman enough to refuse your offer. When he was practically starving, as Baird told me he was, he refused to take advantage of an unwilling obligation. Is that why you do not want to go to Kay?” There was pride in the quiver of her nostrils, and pity in her eyes, as she spoke.