"Oh, how could I do that?" said she, in an equally low—and frightened—voice.
"You sent him away."
There was no answer. The elder woman waited; she only saw that Mary Avon's fingers were working nervously with the edge of the palette.
"Mary," said she at length, "am I right in imagining the cause of your sending him away? May I write and explain, if you will not?"
"Oh, how can you explain?" the girl said, almost piteously. "It is better as it is. Did you not hear what the kindest friend I ever found in the world had to say of me yesterday, about young people who were too prudent, and were mercenary; and how he had no respect for young people who thought too much about money——"
"Mary, Mary!" the other said, "he was not speaking about you. You mercenary! He was speaking about a young man who would throw over his sweetheart for the sake of money. You mercenary! Well, let me appeal to Angus! When I explain to him, and ask him what he thinks of you, I will abide by his answer."
"Well, I did not think of myself; it was for his sake I did it," said the girl, in a somewhat broken voice; and tears began to steal down her cheeks, and she held her head away.
"Well then, I won't bother you anymore, Mary," said the other, in her kindliest way. "I won't ask you to do anything, except to get ready to get down to the yacht."
"At once?" said the girl, instantly getting up, and drying her eyes. She seemed greatly relieved by this intimation of an immediate start.
"As soon as the men have the luggage taken down."