Miss Milray rose and shook out her plumes for flight, as if she were rather eager for flight, but at the little sigh with which Clementina said, “Yes, that is what I thought,” she faltered.
“I was going to run away, for I shouldn't like to mix myself up in your affair—it's certainly a very strange one—unless I was sure I could help you. But if you think I can—”
Clementina shook her head. “I don't believe you can,” she said, with a candor so wistful that Miss Milray stopped quite short. “How does Mr. Gregory take this Belsky business?” she asked.
“I guess he feels it moa than I do,” said the girl.
“He shows his feeling more?”
“Yes—no—He believes he drove him to it.”
Miss Milray took her hand, for parting, but did not kiss her. “I won't advise you, my dear. In fact, you haven't asked me to. You'll know what to do, if you haven't done it already; girls usually have, when they want advice. Was there something you were going to say?”
“Oh, no. Nothing. Do you think,” she hesitated, appealingly, “do you think we are—engaged?”
“If he's anything of a man at all, he must think he is.”
“Yes,” said Clementina, wistfully, “I guess he does.”